


New Rules

by xForEverythingElse (PrimaryScavQueen)



Category: Burn Notice, Chuck (TV), Leverage
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drinking, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Relationships, Post Chuck vs The Pink Slip, Post Old Friends-Burn Notice, Post Series-Leverage, Sarah and Michael (and Bryce) have history, Swearing, Violence, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/xForEverythingElse
Summary: Sarah receives a coded SOS from her dad when a con goes wrong in Miami. Sarah, Chuck, and Casey head down to Florida and meet up with some old friends and collide with some new ones. When the game is flipped, everyone must work together to take down something even bigger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: This is unbeta-ed so please forgive any mistakes. I also don't have a full idea of where this is going so updates may be slow. The timeline(s) are as followed:
> 
> Chuck: Post "Chuck vs The Pink Slip" (Season 3, Episode 1) Team Bartowski may be working together again but Sarah and Chuck are on the outs after Chuck broke her heart when he chose to become a spy and not leave the life with her.
> 
> Burn Notice: Post "Old Friends" (Season 1, Episode 4) Michael is still trying to find out why he's been blacklisted. He also just had a brush with an assassin and was left injured. He's discovered that someone wanted him burned but NOT dead. He, Sam, and Fi are starting to find their way as a team.
> 
> Leverage: Post Series (Season 5, Episode 15) Leverage International, headed by Parker, is working like a machine. Nate and Sophie are off living their happily ever after.

 

 

She was being watched. Awareness prickled across the back of her neck, set her spine a little straighter which she quickly disguised as languid stretch. Behind the aviator lenses of her sunglasses, Sarah Walker studied the crowd that passed along the street. Settling back against the café patio chair, she played the role of carefree vacationer as she took a sip from her flute glass. It was straight orange juice but at this hour, it looked identical to all the other mimosas that rested on nearby tables. Her movements, as well as she camouflaged them, didn’t fail to catch her companion’s notice.

 

            “You okay, Sarah?” Chuck Bartowski asked as he swallowed a bite of huevos rancheros. 

 

            She gave him a tight smile that she hoped looked more natural than it felt. “I think we’re being watched.” 

 

            Dark brows rose up his forehead but he continued eating. “Found any suspects yet?” 

           

            With a slow exhale, she shook her head. “No, not yet.” Sarah picked up her fork and speared a piece of pineapple from the small bowl of mixed fruit that was on the other side of her plate. 

 

Tart and sweet exploded on her tongue as she popped it into her mouth, the citrus juice coating her throat. Chuck paused from inhaling his eggs and picked up his coffee. As he took a sip, she watched his dark eyes flick around. He still wasn’t as smooth as her when it came to surveillance but he was getting better. When he lowered his mug, his hand froze in mid-air. His eyes became unfocused, expression slack. Her heartbeat ticked up in her chest, he was having a flash. The mug suddenly began moving again and he cleared his throat, the moment over as quick as it began. 

 

            “There’s a man coming up on the street behind you.” Chuck said carefully, keeping his voice low, “He’s former CIA, currently burned. His name is Mi--”

 

            “Michael Westen.” She finished for him, setting down her fork, any trace of her appetite vanishing. 

 

            Chuck blinked in surprise. After a beat, he asked: “Is he a friend or foe?” 

 

            “Last time I saw him?” Sarah tried not to go down memory lane too deep; it was all before he was burned, “Friend.”

 

Chuck’s gaze flicked up as a shadow fell over her. Sarah looked up at Michael Westen’s face. Like her, mirror lensed sunglasses obscured the blue eyes behind them. The corners of his mouth were quirked upward, in what could be considered a smile. With Michael, she knew him well enough to know the look was a mask. The uncertainty of what was behind the facade worried her. He had been an excellent spy, just like Bryce had been. And they burnt him. She had tried to ask questions but was met with stony silences and a firm promise of digging for those answers would lead to the same fate. 

 

            “Sarah Walker. What brings you to Miami?”  He greeted her, his question friendly but his tone was tight.

 

            “Family.” She matched his tone, “Visiting my father.” 

 

Michael’s brow arched. He knew the man her father was; their backgrounds similar enough to draw an instant bond between them. A kinship that she had counted on before. But was that bridge burnt like his status? 

 

            “Who’s your friend?” Michael inclined his head towards Chuck.

 

            “Michael Weston, meet Charles Carmichael,” Sarah explained by way of introduction, deciding to keep her and Chuck’s cover even here, “My boyfriend.” 

 

Chuck extended his hand and Michael took it. The shake was almost friendly. Almost. Sarah could see that Michael squeezed Chuck’s hand with enough force to blanch the side of his palm.

 

            “Lucky man.” Michael replied briskly, his voice devoid of any actual emotion, “I’m on my way to a business meeting but we should catch up.” 

 

            Sarah nodded. “I’d like that.” 

 

            “Enjoy your breakfast.” Michael said, shifting his weight as he moved, “I’ll talk to you later. It was nice meeting you, Charles.”

 

            “Likewise.” Chuck’s voice held a touch of hesitation.

 

With another ghost of a smile, one that struck her as more genuine than his first, Michael was off. Sarah watched him as he strolled down the street and rounded the corner, out of her sight. Before she realized what she was doing, she was on her feet. She tossed her napkin onto the metal table and touched Chuck’s shoulder.

 

           “Call Casey and have him pick you up.” She instructed him.

 

           “No, I’m going with you. Sarah, he’s been burned. The files on him mark him as a highly dangerous threat. I’m not letting you go after him alone.”

 

Her heart twisted, his concern ripping at the seams of the pocket she had tucked her feelings for him. God, how he had hurt her; there were times it still burned as raw as it had that day on the train platform in Prague. She swallowed, shaking her head.  _Keep your emotions to yourself_. She had told him. _They have no place here._ She reminded herself. 

 

          “Don’t worry about me, Chuck.” She told him, “Michael won’t hurt me.”

 

         “Are you sure of that?” Chuck demanded quietly, “I’m not willing to risk it.”

 

Even with her instructions, she knew Chuck would just follow after her. He was terrible at staying still; still wanting to rush head first into things with his heart as his guide, not his head. At least his training hadn’t quashed the one thing that made her fall for him. She growled softly under her breath. 

 

         “Fine. But let’s go.” She replied, “If the Intersect gave you his history, you know just how good he is at---”

 

        “Everything?” Chuck interjected as he tossed some money down on the table.

 

       “Losing a tail.” Sarah led the way through the restaurant and out the front door, “But yes, everything is also accurate.” 

 

She slid her arm through Chuck’s, in keeping with their cover, and followed in the direction Michael had departed. By the time they rounded the corner, he was gone. Sarah swore quietly.  The breeze blew, ruffling the skirt of her sundress and the curling ends of Chuck’s increasingly wild hair. The Miami humidity was not kind to those shaggy curls.

 

As they idly walked, she felt that presence again. Her body went on alert and she quickly scanned around her, searching for Michael’s familiar frame. She didn’t find him but the adrenaline didn’t fade. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man with a fedora push off a wall across the street and move into the crowd around him.  The hat was pulled low, angled so obscured his face from her view. However, there was something in the way he moved that made her body want to chase after him and wrap herself around him.

 

Instead of moving, she froze. What the hell was wrong with her? Beside her, Chuck came to a halt when his arm pulled hers, their bodies thrown off their sync. 

 

           “Sarah? What is it?” 

 

She opened her mouth and choked on her words. _Bryce!_ His name was on her tongue, made her instinctively want to cry out when he was completely gone from her sight. _Not again_. Her heart seized, squeezing tight, overriding everything else. _Don’t you dare touch him!_ That was the last thing she had said before they took him away. Her vision clouded, tears stinging her eyes. Lungs worked to pull in a shaky breath. 

 

           “Sarah?!” Chuck’s voice was alarmed now but it sounded far away. 

 

She couldn’t be seeing him. Bryce Larkin was dead, killed by an operative of The Ring. But the grief. The grief still bubbled up at odd moments over the last six months. This was just one of them. Probably brought on by the stress of seeing Michael again. Breathing came easier this time as the logical explanation filtered through her thoughts. Chuck was searching her face, worry drawing his handsome face into furrowed brows and frown lines. 

 

           “I’m fine, Chuck.” Her voice was calm.

 

           “What did you see? Another friend? Foe?” 

 

           “Just a ghost.” She murmured.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Some sexual content (a threesome) discussed (well, remembered) in passing. Also updates from here on out will be slow.

Sarah took a step towards the edge of the sidewalk, stomach still twisted into knots. She raised her arm with every intention of calling a cab, but a red convertible pulled up along in front of her Casey was sitting shotgun while a familiar man with graying scuff shadowing his square jaw and dimpled chin was in the driver seat. The knot in her stomach began to loosen. She knew that dimpled chin anywhere.

“Sam Axe!” He had once been an informant; the smooth talking, mojito drinking rake had become more than a source of information, he'd become a friend, “What are you doing here? And with Casey?”

“Hey gorgeous!” Sam beamed, “I’m retired now, enjoying the sun and beautiful views.” He chuckled, jerking a thumb at Casey, “Casey and I go way back.”

 

“We were in the middle of drinks when he got a call from Westen. He asked us to grab you and bring you to his place for a talk.” Casey added.

 

“Oh.” Sarah replied faintly. Michael still worked fast.

 

Sam lowered his sunglasses down his nose enough that she could see his eyes. They flicked up behind her and Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Chuck, noticing he was in the middle of another flash. When it was over, Chuck blinked and gave them a smile.

 

“You okay there, pal?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“Just a migraine.” He replied easily, “I’m Charles. Charles Carmichael.”

 

“Nice to meet ya.” Sam said with a nod, sliding his sunglasses back up.

 

“Climb on in.” Casey said, gesturing over his shoulder.

 

“Excuse me but beautiful women always ride in the front.” Sam drawled.

 

Casey’s brows rose. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“Unlike some people, I was raised a gentleman.” Sam flashed him a grin.

 

Casey growled, getting out and hopping into the back. Sarah slid into the passenger seat with a low laugh as Chuck hopped into the back easily.

 

“So you know Michael?” Sarah asked Sam.

 

“Naturally. He and I go way back too.”  Sam’s answer was as vague as how he knew Casey.

 

She suspected that if asked, he’d say the same thing about her. She had so many questions, mostly about how Michael was doing but it seemed she’d have to chance to ask him first hand. Sam navigated into the heart of downtown Miami and pulled the car into a small driveway besides what appeared to be a nightclub. Down the drive was a few apartments that looked nearly dilapidated. She winced, thinking of her own apartment back in California on the CIA’s dime.

 

“Michael will be along in a few.” Sam said as he parked, “He requested that you come alone.”

 

“I don’t like this.” Chuck’s voice was low behind her.

 

She shivered as his breath touched her ear. “I’ll be fine, Chuck. Stay with Casey and Sam.” Turning the handle, she exited the passenger seat, “I’ll call you after Michael and I are done.”

 

Chuck looked up at her, worry creasing his eyebrows. She reached out and curled around his shoulder, attempting to soothe him. Part of her hated how natural the ability to touch him still was, how she did it without a second thought.

 

“I can handle myself.” She assured him, “Have some drinks with Casey and Sam, we’re on vacation, Chuck.” She kept her voice light on that last part.

 

He frowned at her and she swallowed a sigh.

 

“Sarah,” Sam’s voice interjected, “Michael said to give you this.”

 

Sarah looked up in time to see a small object flash through the air. She caught it easily and opened her palm to find a small silver key. Her eyebrows ventured up her forehead; him trusting her with his key was a good sign. Feeling a little more optimistic than she had been a few minutes ago, she said good bye after Sam instructed her to go up the flight of metal stairs. She ascended them, wedge heels clunking against each step until she reached the top.

 

After letting herself in, Sarah locked the door behind her. The loft was surprisingly large but barely filled with anything. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the hardwood floor. Metal stairs led up to a small loft that overlooked the entire apartment. A bed took up the most space in the middle of the room on the main floor, covers pulled up neatly. An armchair was near the bed. There was a small counter a few feet away that sectioned off a little kitchenette. Curious, she wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Inside it was bare bones: water, beer, and yogurt. Mostly blueberry.

 

Memories of the last time she saw Michael surfaced, a hotel in Paris, of late night room service; Bryce’s laughter and Michael’s running surveillance commentary between bites of yogurt. Blueberry flavored kisses. The press of Michael’s chest against her back while Bryce’s chest was against hers. Remembered pleasure sent a shiver down her spine and she closed the fridge door. Bryce’s easy charm and the safety she felt with them both had hands to play that night. Things were simpler then. Given everything that had happened in the last year, her chest ached for those days.

 

The silence around her was broken by the sound of the doorknob turning. Snapping out of her reverie, Sarah let her hand drift towards the compartment on her dress that she had created to hide her gun, a camouflaged pocket along the bodice, near her hip. Her hand remained there until the door opened and Michael walked in.

 

“Sarah.” He greeted her plainly.

 

“Michael.” She didn’t relax her body, she couldn’t until she was certain Michael wouldn’t do something foolish. He hadn’t been before, she was counting on it now, “Thanks for letting me in.”

 

He nodded and slowly shrugged out of his suit jacket, laying it over the metal banister. There was something in the way he moved that struck her. He was being ginger with his left shoulder, ever so much. Had she not known him as well as she did, she wouldn’t have noticed. He was trying not to call attention to it. Naturally, she knew that’s where she would strike if she needed to.

 

Michael took off his sunglasses, tossing them onto a small table as crossed the floor to her, standing on the other side of the counter. He braced his hands on the top and took a breath. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she licked her lips. Every nerve ending was on edge. Hurt or not, Michael was a force to be reckoned with.

 

“Do you know who did this to me?” He asked her, getting straight to the point.

 

“No. And when I asked questions, I was met with threats of my own black listing.” She swallowed, opting for honesty, “I stopped asking. Bryce had just gone rogue and I couldn’t risk losing anything else.”

 

Michael chuckled at that, the sound dry and humorless. “You didn’t want to end up like this?” He gestured around them.

 

She tried not to flinch. “No. This life is all I have.”

 

He slammed his hands down on the counter. “It was all I had too!” Identifiable emotions leeched into his voice as he yelled: anger tinged with sorrow, “And I want to know why!”

 

Sarah nearly un-holstered her weapon.  Michael noticed, his gaze sharp.

 

“You think I would hurt you?” He asked.

 

“I don’t know.” Honesty again.

 

His gaze softened just a bit. “Jesus, Sarah. Like I could ever hurt you.”

 

“You’ve been burned, Michael. You’re angry.”

 

“You’re not the one I want to hurt.” It sounded like a promise.

 

Carefully, she stepped around the counter and moved in front of him. “I’m sorry that they burned you. I’ll try again to see if I can gain any new information.” She thought back to Chuck and his flash; if anyone would know how or why, it would be him. But would he give her the information? “I have a new team, higher clearance. I can’t guarantee anything but you would do the same for me.”

 

He surprised her by cupping her face, pressing his forehead to hers. “I would.”

 

She finally relaxed, wrapping her arms around him. Michael’s body relaxed too and she closed her eyes, clinging desperately to the comfort of the embrace. It was the first time since Chuck had ripped her heart out that she felt balanced.

 

“I miss Paris.” She murmured as she lifted her head.

 

His clear blue eyes were warm. “Me too.”

 

She hugged him tighter and he hissed softly. The hand that rested up by his shoulder felt something warm, something wet. Peering over his shoulder at her hand, her palm glittered with red blood.

 

“You’re bleeding, Michael.” She said, even though she was certain he was aware.

 

With a sigh, his hands went to his shirt front and began to undo the buttons with a quick flip of his nimble fingers. Sarah moved back into the kitchen and washed her hands, drying them on a towel, eyes scanning for any sort of med kit.

 

“Under the sink.” He informed her as he gingerly peeled off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs.

 

Sarah ducked down and retrieved it, returning to his side. He turned and she took in the injury on his shoulder. It had been stitched, probably by someone unprofessional; judging by the poorly sutured stitches. Blood seeped down from the jagged wound and she worked quickly to clean it. It had been a while since she had done any field medical work but she knew she could do a better job than whoever done that. Michael sunk down into the small armchair, almost defeated as she pulled some latex gloves.

 

Sympathy tugged at her heart. “This is going to hurt.”

 

“I know.” Even his voice was resigned.

 

“What happened?” She asked as she worked, carefully removing the busted threads with a pair of tweezers.

 

“There’s an assassin after me.” He replied, like it was absolutely nothing, “Someone doesn’t want me to find out why I was burned.”

 

With the stitches gone, she carefully cleaned the lesion and threaded a surgical grade needle with thread. “Do you want anything for the pain?”

 

“I’ll be alright.”

 

“Sorry.” She murmured when she started to stitch him up, trying to make quick work of it to not draw out the hurt.

 

After she was done and the supplies were put away, Michael stretched out on his bed, patting the mattress when she came back into the room, drying off her hands. Laughing softly, she joined him, curling up to his good side.

 

“Are you okay?” She asked.

 

“A little nauseous but it will pass. Laying down will help.” He was quiet a moment. “So why are you really in Miami?”

 

“I really am here because of my father.” She closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck. His skin was warm and soothing, smelled faintly of sweat, soap, and Michael, “He sent me a coded SOS. It was our code phrase for if things got really bad…he’s never used it before this.”

 

“Have you touched base with him?”

 

“No, I haven’t been able to find him.” Sarah sighed, “I sent a reply but he’s been maintaining radio silence…” A full day had passed since she had put her reply, using their special code, in the paper. She wasn’t going to start panicking. Not yet, anyways. Her dad would find her. He always managed to.

 

“And the CIA just let you come down here?”

 

She huffed. “I do have vacation time.”

       

 “And Casey? He’s here with you?”

 

“He and Charles—Chuck, are part of my new team. They didn’t want me going alone.”

 

This time, Michael snorted. “That Chuck guy is actually a CIA agent?”

 

“He’s my analyst.” Sarah replied easily. It was a fraction of the truth, anyways.

 

“Is he really your boyfriend?”

 

“No.”

 

Michael made a noise in response; it sounded like an affirmation. But he didn’t elaborate on what he was thinking. Probably for the better. His hand curved around her hip and his lips pressed to her forehead.

 

“I’m sorry about Bryce.” His voice was gentle.

 

Her throat tightened and she swallowed a few times, trying to get it to relax. Michael only knew about Bryce’s first death, she couldn’t even tell him about the second. Grief washed over her like a wave, crashing from her heart to the rest of her leaving a physical ache in its wake.

 

“I still can’t believe he’s gone.” The words barely made it off her tongue. After they had found him alive after his first death, she had expected him to turn up again. But she had been given his ashes when the CIA reclaimed his body. Spreading them hadn’t brought her anywhere closer to closure.

 

“I can’t believe he’d go rogue.” Michael’s brows furrowed, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“There…there was more at play than just him going rogue.” She confided quietly.

 

“We worked for the CIA, that’s a given.”

 

Sarah chuckled, a gruff sound, raising up on her elbow. “I should get back. Chuck is expecting to hear from me.”

 

“Or you could stay.” Michael suggested, “Having you here…my life feels almost like normal again.”

 

A slow smile touched her lips. “I could.” Studying his face, she took in the dark bags under his eyes, the pure exhaustion that seeped from him, “Only if you get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

 

“Deal.”

 

It didn’t take long for Michael to succumb to sleep. Sarah got off the bed and took out her cell phone, moving out onto the small terrace off the kitchen. She speed dialed Chuck and almost rolled her eyes when he picked up the phone before the first ring even finished.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

 

 “Of course, I am.” She answered, “Things are fine with Michael and I. How are things with Casey and Sam?”

 

 “Mildly horrifying as they’re trying to get me drunk at…ten in the morning.”

 

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “That sounds about right for Sam.”

 

“Do you need us to come get you?”

 

“No, I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll meet back up with you guys later.”

 

“Be safe, Sarah.”

 

“Always am.” She disconnected the call and stared at the phone in her hand.

 

There was that ache again, the one that had been so alien, she named it after the cause. _Chuck._ Sure, she had experienced heartache before, even some with Bryce but this. This was a different level. Chuck had been different…

 

Or so she had thought. Tucking away her phone, she moved the armchair beside the bed and settled into it. Michael slept soundly, his chest rising and falling steadily. Tucking her leg underneath her, Sarah sighed. Dwelling on Chuck wouldn’t help her now. She had to focus on finding her dad and untangling the mess he had gotten himself into. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A huge thank you goes out to @davidcarner for helping me with the plot of this story and for being there to vent to when I'm struggling! Thank you so much, David! You rock!

_Crunch…crunch…crunch…crunch…_

Parker was eating cereal again. It filled their comms at a thunderous volume. Normally, Eliot Spencer could block out the sound but it called attention to the fact he was hungry as well. His stomach growled as she munched some more. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. The allusion of a phone call gave Eliot enough cover to stay put and not lose the perfect view he had on their target.

 

“Parker.” He growled, “You promised no more eating cereal on the comms!”

 

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, “I needed a snack. I’m bored over here. I thought there would be more action then there is.”

 

Parker was across Miami, keeping an eye on their prime target. Her voice was disappointed. He could almost see her slight pout.

 

“No fighting you two.” Alec Hardison’s baritone voice smoothed any further retort on Eliot’s tongue, “Eliot, just go eat something, man.”

 

“Later.” He dismissed the idea; he knew the minute he got food, he’d end up having to leave. 

 

“Don’t be snippy then.” The steady clack of Hardison typing came through the ear piece, “You should come back to the hotel anyways. I pulled up the CCTV by the patio. Looks like they’re going to be there for a while.”

 

Eliot studied the table, the top collecting a vast array of empty glasses that formally contained beers and mojitos. “Fine.” 

 

After paying his bill, he made his way out to the street where he parked his motorcycle. Pocketing his phone, he slipped on his helmet and headed back to the rather fancy hotel Hardison had booked them in. He took the elevator up to the penthouse suite, something he still wasn’t happy over. The room wasn’t discrete like any other floor would be but upon first glance, he knew why Hardison had booked it. Parker loved being near the roof, loved the height at which she could look down at the city below. And well, he would have done the same thing. Making Parker—and Hardison—happy was one of the small pleasures he took in this life.

 

He found Hardison at what had been the dining room table. Now it was littered with monitors and the other tech supplies they needed. Hardison’s eyes left the screen when Eliot rounded the table and pulled out at chair. There were CIA and NSA employee files one of the three monitors. 

 

“Government?” Eliot asked, leaning forward.

 

“Yeah.” The cursor moved across the screen and he enlarged one of them. WALKER, SARAH was written across the top with a picture of a gorgeous woman on the right corner **,** their prime target, “I don’t think our client knows his daughter is a spy. He sure as hell wouldn’t have hired us if he did.” 

 

“Shit. Who are the others?” 

 

“It appears to be her team. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this dude is Vance’s twin.” Hardison pulled up the NSA file and sure enough, the man on the screen looked exactly like Vance. CASEY, JOHNATHAN was written on the file but that didn’t mean shit.

 

“Are you sure it’s not?” Eliot searched the picture for anything that stood out as different from his friend’s usually surly expression; there wasn’t.

 

Hardison nodded and took a drink from the two liter of orange soda that he’d been nursing since they had gotten up that morning. “Yeah, man. Do you doubt my digging skills?”

 

“Hell no.” Eliot had absolute confidence in his man’s abilities. There was no firewall that could stop him, no secret he couldn’t find even when it came to the government’s private files. “And the other guy?”

 

The file switched and Eliot studied the screen. BARTOWSKI, CHARLES IRVING. There wasn’t much there. He didn’t have a listed job title nor skill from the CIA. It didn’t even give his affiliation with Walker or Casey. It was abnormal to say the least.

 

“That’s it on him?” Instinct told Eliot that there was something deeper going on; the CIA was actively trying to protect information regarding this Charles Bartowski.

 

“Yeah, for the CIA anyways.” Hardison brought up another screen with an employee record for a Buy More out in Burbank and an expulsion record from Stanford. 

 

This case was starting to get weird.

 

“Who the hell is this guy?”

 

“We’ll have to find out the old fashion way.” Hardison leaned back in the wooden chair, stretching his long arms over his head. 

 

Eliot touched his comm. “Parker, you there?”

 

Crunching greeted him, followed by a muffled. “Yeah.” 

 

“Be careful near Walker. She’s CIA.” He warned Parker as he moved into the kitchenette and opening up the fridge. 

 

The line fell silent. Not even her steady crunching could be heard. His muscles tensed at the sudden absence. “Parker?”

 

“I think she and mystery date are going to bone.” The random observation came off a little dry but he could detect a slight interest in her tone.

 

“Didn’t need to know that, Parker!” Eliot bit off and shut the fridge with enough force the freezer door unsealed and popped a tiny bit open. He rolled his eyes and closed it.

 

“Maybe you should have sex.” She suggested brightly, “Definitely would help you relax.” 

 

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” 

 

Parker giggled. “Why not? You and Hardison haven’t had alone time in a while.”

 

“That’s because you’re greedy, darlin’.” Eliot drawled, unable to keep the affection from his voice, “And we love to spoil you rotten.”

 

His eyes met Hardison’s and they shared a smile. Hardison’s eyebrows quirked and the corner of his mouth remained in a smug little smirk. Dark eyes regarded him with a hint of heat; hotter than the Floridian summer temperature outdoor side. Eliot’s gaze traveled down to his boyfriend’s full lips. Tempting. So very tempting. 

 

A regretful sigh left his chest with a ragged breath. Their polyamorous relationship was still very much in the honeymoon phase and showed no signs of slowing, even after nearly a year. Not that he was complaining. Though, their attention needed to be elsewhere right now. Apparently, he was the only one in work mode. “We’re here on a job, remember?” 

 

“Yeah. We’re supposed to be making sure our client is protected and that his daughter finds him.” Hardison replied, “As of now, we’re right on schedule.” 

 

“Hey,” Parker’s voice interrupted, “Blondie is on the move with mystery date…”

 

Well, that officially ended any chance that he could be persuaded into a romp of their own; if anyone could sway him, it was Hardison and his very smooth, smart mouth. Eliot snatched up his motorcycle keys and helmet, pausing for a moment to leave Hardison with a kiss; one that promised just what was in store later. Hardison returned the kiss with the same heat that had been in his eyes. It robbed Eliot of air and good sense.

 

“Damn it, Hardison.” He cursed breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

 

Hardison chuckled and it rumbled through his chest. In Eliot’s ear, Parker laughed softly, nearly a ghost of a sound. 

 

“You boys sound like you’re having too much fun without me.” 

 

“Greedy girl.” Hardison chided but not without affection. No, the affection warmed his voice, his face, and Eliot lived for that expression. Lived for them, would die for them. Two sides of the same coin. He’d sworn a vow to himself, to them, to Sophie. 

 

“Parker, I’ll be there in twenty.” Eliot promised as he stepped away from Hardison. 

 

It actually took him eighteen minutes by the time he pulled up to the sidewalk outside of Parker’s roost. Letting the engine idle, he reached back and pulled the second helmet from the passenger backrest. Focusing on the noise around him, he caught the nearly inaudible sounds of her footfalls and extended the helmet out to Parker. Without missing a beat, she took it from his hand and put it on. Between his thighs, the motorcycle dipped ever so slightly under her weight. Her arms slid around his waist and she pressed herself against his back.

 

“Where they at, Hardison?” Eliot asked.

 

“Still at bar, man.” Came the reply, “What’s the plan?”

 

“Grab a table. Observe.”

 

“Get Eliot to eat.” Parker’s voice chimed in.

 

Eliot couldn’t argue with her part of the plan. With a soft squeeze of her strong arms and the roar of the engine, they were off. He parked the motorcycle around the corner from the restaurant. Parker’s hand slid into his as they walked. Despite the fact that they had been lovers for nearly a year now and he had touched her body all over, this still felt new. Her hands were smaller but nearly as calloused as his own; they were stronger than his own. Climbing buildings shaped her hands, her grips. Bodies gave under hands, buildings didn’t.  She smiled over at him, her blue eyes squinting in the bright sun. Eliot smiled back and pressed a quick kiss to her temple, moving into the role of publicly affectionate boyfriend as they approached the hostess stand. 

 

“You two are just adorable!” She gushed, “Would you like to dine inside or outdoor on the patio today?”

 

“The patio would be great.” Eliot replied and they followed her through the interior dining room and out onto the patio outside. 

 

The hostess sat they at a table that faced the one that housed Walker, Casey, Bartowski, and their associates. After the hostess handed them their menus and vanished, Eliot took a minute to study the menu. 

 

“Any IDs on mystery date and chin guy?” Parker asked Hardison as she flipped her menu over. 

 

“Chin guy has the coolest non-alias name I think I’ve heard. He’s Sam Axe. Former SEAL, retired. Informant to those in the alphabet city.” Hardison answered, “Mystery Date on the other hand…” He let out a low whistle, “Michael Westen, formerly CIA, he was just blacklisted about a month ago. But his record? _Im.press.ive_.” 

 

“Why did he get burned?” Eliot asked.

 

“Nothing on his record indicates he fucked anything up too much. Reeks of political involvement. I’m sure his enemies list is just as long as his file.” 

 

Eliot paused the conversation as a waiter appeared at his elbow. He ordered an omelet and a black coffee. A simple meal but it would be telling how good their chef was. Parker ordered red velvet s’mores pancakes. It sounded like an instant cavity but she was giddy over the combination. Giddy Parker was better than everything.  

 

Their drinks arrived first; his coffee and her milk.  Eliot took a long drink of the decent brew and caught Bartowski eyeballing him. Fuck. Shifting his demeanor to charming, he reached across the table and took Parkers hand, pulling it up to his mouth. Callouses tugged gently at the skin of his lips. She gave him a quick weird look but followed his lead, batting her eyelashes at him. Her acting flirting was still a little awkward and it made him smile. When it was just them, she didn’t need to flirt.

 

“Are they watching?” She asked quietly.

 

“Bartowski’s got some weird look on his face…figured it was better to be safe.” 

 

“Not complaining.” Parker chuckled.

 

He gave her a wink, pulling back as their food arrived. Parker dug into her pancakes with a little unbridled squeal of pure joy and oversized bites. He dug into his omelet with less enthusiasm but was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the food. Their meal progressed smoothly; no more weird looks from the other table which made it easier to enjoy eating and Parker’s mostly quiet company. Michael and Sam split off from Walker and the others, who lingered at their table. There was a curious tension between Walker and Bartowski; it wasn’t completely obvious but Eliot noticed the way she held herself when he spoke, a tension tightened her eyes. The relaxed state she had been in had vanished with Michael. 

 

He tucked that knowledge in the back of his mind as he finished his coffee; it could come in handy later. Parker polished off her pancakes with a small groan, leaning back in the chair. She patted her belly in satisfaction.

 

“Can we come back here tomorrow?” She asked, sounding hopeful. 

 

He laughed. “Sure.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the neighboring table leave. “Keep an eye on them, Hardison.” 

 

“Can do.”

 

“Need anything?” Parker asked Hardison quietly, letting her eyes drift shut and lifting her face towards the bright sun. Her pale skin practically glowed in the rays.

 

“Nah, I’m good, mama. I just got some room service.” 

 

“Please tell me it’s not pizza.” Eliot was working hard on helping Hardison eat healthier. Left to his own devices, Hardison’s diet was nearly as atrocious as Parker’s. Herding cats would be an easier task somedays.

 

There was a pause. “Do you want me to lie?”

 

“Damn it, Hardison.” Eliot sighed.

 

The waitress appeared and Eliot quickly paid the bill in cash, making sure to tip generously out of courtesy. They made their way back to his bike and hopped on. 

 

“Where are we headed?” Eliot asked.

 

“Back here, apparently.” There came the sounds of fast typing on a keyboard, “Huh. They’re staying at the hotel too. Next floor down.” 

 

Fate wasn’t a concept he believed in but the coincidence was damn eerie. Back to the hotel it was then. The air-conditioned lobby was a welcomed relief from the humid heat outside, hitting Eliot with much needed heavy hand. He and Parker moved to catch the elevator and, surprise, surprise, Walker, Bartowski, and Casey were already in the lift. Through his comm, Hardison’s laughter rang in his ear. He exchanged a quick look with Parker, who was smiling so widely, he knew she was struggling not to laugh as well. Hitting the penthouse button with a hard jab, he and Parker isolated themselves in the back corner. 

 

Elevator rides were usually uncomfortable enough with so many people cramped in such a tiny space. But the mere fact that they were trapped with the people they were meant to be watching from a distance was sheer hell. Especially with such a long way up and the damn elevator was almost ridiculously slow-moving. But Eliot knew a surefire way to make certain the others would ignore them. He lifted his brows to Parker and closed what little space had been between them. Pressing her back against the wall, he found her mouth with his. She made a soft noise against his lips, somewhere between a moan and a groan and deepened the kiss, her tongue lightly tracing his bottom lip.

 

“Damn, that’s sexy.” Hardison’s voice was husky, “I’m enjoying the show…” There was a soft laugh, “The others aren’t. They’re trying so hard not to look at you guys, I might just have to take a screenshot for posterity.” 

 

That seemingly fueled Parker to amp up the level of PDA as her legs came up off the ground to wrap around his waist. There was a small yelp from behind him which made Eliot nearly lose focus when Parker broke the kiss.

 

“My bad.” She panted in apology.

 

“You’re, uh, fine.” Bartowski replied awkwardly.

 

“I can’t believe you just kicked him in the butt!” Hardison laughed out right. “He’s inching away from you guys. This is just priceless.”

 

When the elevator came to a stop, the trio bailed quickly. When the elevator resumed movement, Eliot gave her one last kiss before the doors opened on their floor. She grinned at him. 

 

“That was fun!” She declared brightly, practically skipping out of the lift.

 

 It certainly was. A slow smile crossed his mouth as the feeling of her kiss still resonated on his lips as he followed after her. 


	4. Chapter 4

A jaunty tune jingled from the cup holder in the charger’s middle console. Few people had the number to this burner—the one Michael considered his personal phone—and one of them was sitting beside him. So that left only three other options. He had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. He picked it up, read the all too familiar number, and hit the silent button. Michael let the phone fall with a clatter, the only noise in the occupied space. From the passenger seat, Fiona Glenanne looked over at him with knowing eyes.

 

“Your mother again?” She asked, a small lit to her voice.

 

“Mmhm.” Michael grunted the affirmation, turning his attention back out the window.

 

Quiet fell between them once more but there was an edge to it. He could feel it stretching, growing. It was in the way that Fi shifted, pulled her legs up onto the seat until they were against her chest.

 

“What?” He asked, not wanting to draw out whatever she was about to ambush him with. He’d rather talk—or listen as he preferred, depending on the topic—and get it done.

 

“A little birdy told me that an ex of yours is in town.” Fi drawled, resting her chin on her knees and fixing him with a look as sharp as her favorite knife.

 

The sigh that left his lungs was half exasperated, half tired. _I’m going to murder you, Sam_. “That little birdy has enjoyed his last mojito.”

 

Fi batted her long lashes at him. “So, it’s true? Who is this ex?”

 

With this topic, he knew Fi would be…a menace, to put it kindly. Grinding his teeth just slightly, he offered her the most important pieces of information. “Her name is Sarah. We use to work together on and off. She’s not an ex in the technical sense…we didn’t actually date,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “She had a boyfriend at the time. Her partner, Bryce. We all just…killed time together.”

 

“The three of you?” Her voice was slow, curiosity tinting her words.

 

“Yes, the three of us.”

 

“Oh my, Michael. I had no idea.” She purred, her eyes were warm. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

 

He shrugged, brushing off her tone. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not looking for any more complications.” He regretted his words choice the minute it left his mouth.

 

The warmth faded her eyes and they narrowed to dangerous points. “I’m a complication?” She huffed, eyes flicking over him like she was looking for a good place to stick a knife. And knowing Fi, that’s exactly what she was doing.

 

“Not you, Fi.” Michael groaned in annoyance.

 

“Have you fucked her? Her boyfriend?” She had all the bluntness of a sledgehammer to the face.

 

He pulled his sunglasses from his face and tossed them onto the dash, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Bryce is dead.”

 

“Oh.” There was a faint trace of surprise in her tone. After a beat, Fi continued, her voice subdued but curious, “You still didn’t answer my question.”

 

“No, I haven’t.” He snapped, “I just discovered she’s in town and I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

 

Fiona was quiet for a while and Michael looked at it as a small blessing; if she had the answers she desired, the subject would drop. He turned his attention back to the job; trailing the man that conned his latest client. They’d been sitting at this corner for nearly two hours, there hadn’t been much actual trailing going on.

 

“Do you think she’ll be able to help you find out who burned you?”  She asked.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He grabbed up his sunglasses and slid them back into place, “She said she’d try but there’s a risk of her getting burnt in the process…”

 

“And you don’t want that to happen to her?”

 

He didn’t have to think before he answered. “No.”

 

“You really care about her.” It was a quiet observation.

 

“I do.” There was no use in trying to pretend otherwise.

 

“I thought spies weren’t supposed to care about anyone.”

 

Michael tilted his head in her direction, studied her beautiful face. It was a careful mask at the moment but he recognized the expression underneath in the small tells on her face: the way the left corner of her mouth formed a tiny straight line, the sudden tightness in her eyes. She was vulnerable. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the twist in his heart.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time I failed at that part of the job description.”  He answered honestly, reaching across the space between them and wrapping his hand around her calf. Her skin was warm beneath his hand and so very soft.

 

Fiona shivered lightly, goosebumps raising across her skin as he trailed his thumb over her skin. “Tell me about her.”

 

He exhaled slowly. He knew why she wanted to know; knew why she wouldn’t let it go. She wanted to know if there was competition, wanted to know if someone had had the same effect on him like she had. Truth be told, if anyone had come close, it had been Sarah. But not the same way at all; there had been no one like Fi. Before or after.

 

“She and I are two halves of the same coin. Raised by con men, trained to become weapons. Consumed by our work, driven to help others. Our connection took me by surprise.” He shook his head, “I didn’t have many people I could call friend in or out of the CIA. But Sarah? Sarah, I could. I do.”

 

Fi’s long, slim fingers slid over his, feeling cool against his skin. “Friends are good to have in this world.”

 

“God knows I don’t need any more enemies.”

 

She laughed softly and the tension eased from her body. “Speaking of, how’s the shoulder?”

 

“Fine.”

 

A perfectly shaped brow arched and she stared at him until he sighed.

 

“Sarah had to fix the stitches. I busted them open like an idiot. She did a much better job than Nate.”

 

Fi clucked her tongue softly but didn’t say anything to chide him. She stretched and he watched her unfurl with a feline grace. His phone rang again, disturbing the calm between them. It was his mother. Again. He hit the silent button. Again. Fi sighed audibly.

 

“You know Michael, you could avoid some stress if you just answered when she called.”

 

A low chuckle escaped his throat. It was accompanied with a feeling so bitter he could taste it on his tongue. “No, Fi. I couldn’t. I’d rather just focus on work right now.”

 

She muttered something under her breath. Something that sounded vaguely like _pussy_. He ignored her comment. Their con man appeared, climbing into an old station wagon. About damn time. Michael had long reached the point where he’d talked enough about his feelings. Hell, he’d talked enough for a week. Hopefully that would satisfy Fi; indulging her was often worth the pay off.

 

Following after Conrad Bridges would provide the perfect distraction from further discussion. Fi even seemed eager to be on the move, like a lioness stalking her prey. It was one of the things he loved about her. She shared his sharp focus, the enjoyment of physical work. Anticipation built in the air between them, thick and weighty.

 

Michael guided the charger to a stop just beyond the building where Conrad had disappeared into. He fed the meter a few quarters and leisurely walked with Fi, following after the con man. Approaching the front door, it turned out the building was a restaurant. Smoothly, Fi slid her arm through his and gave him a smile. Once inside, the hostess sat them on the other side of the room from their target. Conrad sat with another man, who had shaggy brown hair, serious blue eyes, and a somber expression to match. A blonde sat to his right, looking cheerful and bright. A third chair, empty filled out the small square table.

 

“New victims?” Fi muttered as she flipped through the menu.

 

“Or contacts of some sort?” Michael countered, pretending to be interested in his.

 

Another male appeared, joining the table. He was tall with dark skin, wearing a shirt with that had some reference to Star Trek on it. The table fell easily back into their conversation and Michael wished he had made a bug so he could hear exactly what was going on. Right now, it could be anything. A waitress appeared and he and Fi placed their orders.

 

“Don’t happen to have any bugs in your bag?” Michael asked as the waitress drifted off.

 

“Sadly no. I didn’t have enough room after I added my walther.”

 

Her tone was dry but where most people would take it as a joke, he knew she would never kid about what weapons she had on her. Michael lifted his water glass and tipped it against his lips. As he did, he felt the pointed tip of Fi’s stiletto trace along his calf muscle.

 

“What are you doing there, Fi?” Michael asked as he returned the glass to the tabletop.

 

Her lips tilted into a slow smile. “We’re _are_ supposed to be a loving couple at lunch, aren’t we?”

 

He let his smile match hers, flashing a small amount of teeth for effect. “You do have a point.”

 

She chuckled. “Of course I do.” The stiletto traveled north.

 

Clearing his throat, he focused on keeping his expression friendly but not obvious to the situation under the table. It took a conscious effort, moreso than he anticipated.

 

“I will pay you back for this.” He promised her in a low voice, taking her hand, and brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

 

“Promises, promises.” She trilled, her smile triumphant.


	5. Chapter 5

Sweat crept down the back of his neck, plastering his curls to his skin. No matter how many showers he took since arriving, Chuck couldn’t shake the feeling of being…gross. The humidity was disgusting. How people managed to live here was beyond him. He walked in step with Casey as they followed behind Sarah, who led the way back into the lobby of the hotel. Chuck took a minute to enjoy the icy cold blast of the air conditioning before they crowded into the elevator.

 

Sarah punched the close door button with a harder jab than necessary. As the doors eclipsed the view of the lobby, he caught her image in the golden reflection. Her eyes were downcast and her teeth were tugging at the corner of the left side of her full bottom lip. Signs of anxiety he had only seen in unguarded moments. Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out and comfort her, to try to soothe her. But he had lost that ability and only had his dumbass self to blame.

 

“We’ll find him, Walker.” Casey’s spoke up in his absence.

 

“He’s never been quiet this long before.” Her words were mumbled.

 

“He’s…” Chuck searched for good words, his thoughts tripping over things like _a great liar, could charm his way into Fort Knox_ , “probably just staying low longer to make sure you both will be safe when you reunite.”

 

The elevator dinged brightly as its ascent came to a stop at the floor. “Maybe you’re right.” She sighed, her eyes lifting and meeting his just before the doors slid open.

 

Back in the common room of their shared suite, Chuck made a beeline for the bedroom door that he shared with Casey. He wanted to take a shower and—fingers crossed—maybe feel like a human again. He paused mid-stride when something on the coffee table caught his eyes.

 

“Uh, guys?” He said, “We got mail.”

 

There were three envelopes with their names written on them in fancy gold calligraphy. Sarah reached the table first and opened hers with a quick tear.

 

“What is it?” Casey asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“It’s an invite to the Glittering Gala. It’s tonight.” Her brow furrowed, “It seems like a charity event.”

 

“Why would we get these?” Chuck asked.

 

Sarah flipped her invite around and there was a small drawing in the corner. It didn’t mean anything to him and nothing came up in the intersect.

 

“What am I missing?” He asked.

 

“It’s code. They must be from my dad.”

 

“Why don’t you call Westen and see if he knows anything about this gala. We don’t want to show up and stand out. I’m sure your father chose it because of the ability to blend in.” Suggested Casey as he scowled at his envelope.

 

“This is probably something I think Sam will know more about.” Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell. Her thumb moved quickly across the keypad before she pressed the device to her ear, “Sam, it’s Sarah.”

 

Chuck abandoned the idea of a shower, instead opting for listening in on the conversation the best her could. Plopping down on the soft couch, he watched a wide smile cross Sarah’s lips. The first in days. God, how he had missed it. Whatever Sam was saying to her made her laugh and she disconnected after a quick good bye.

 

“Well?” Casey sighed still eyeballing the envelope with a veil of disgust.

 

Chuck had seen him look at an armed bomb with a friendlier look.

 

“The event is a big affair, formal dress, and surprise, surprise, Sam has an invite.” Sarah dialed her phone again, “He said that Michael is going as well—Michael?” The ex-spy must have answered his phone, “Sam said to call you about the Glittering Gala. Apparently, you know a good place to rent tuxes? You’re dress shopping with Fiona? Is this _the_ Fiona?” Her mouth quirked, “Well, I’m in need of a dress as well. Would it be okay to meet?” She paused and fanned herself with the invite, “See you then.”

 

Tucking her phone away, she gave Casey and Chuck a look. “Looks like we’re going shopping.”

 

Casey made a noise that was half groan, half growl. Chuck shared the sentiment. Nothing like going out in the heat and having to dress in something three piece. But if this invite somehow led to her father, led her to finding some peace, he’d wear anything.

 

Within twenty-five minutes, give or take, they arrived at an upscale boutique. Michael sat in a chair, vaguely glowering at a hallway that had two row of changing rooms covered by thick curtains. When he noticed them, he got up and pressed his lips to Sarah’s cheek. Jealousy stirred, ugly and unpleasant. But then that voice, the unfortunately rational bastard in the back of his mind, reminded him that he had no right to the jealous that made him grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He had been the idiot who chose a path that he hadn’t been ready for over the beautiful woman who was ready to leave her life and start a new one with him.

 

God, he had fucked up hard.

 

“Michael?” A posh voice floated out from the hallway, “What do you think of this one?”

 

A tall brunette with a deep tan and lithe frame appeared. As his gaze assessed her face, he felt the intersect take over, ushering information about the woman before him. Despite her benign appearance, she was ex-IRA with skills running in explosives and weapons. At one point, she was a bank robber for the IRA. She was a known arms dealer. The CIA also had her on record as an asset but he wasn’t sure if she was still one now, given her ties were to Michael. She was not to be crossed or underestimated.

 

Then again, who wasn’t in this business?

 

“I know I look good but I’ve think you’ve stared enough.” Fiona quipped at him.

 

“How come you don’t have an accent?” Chuck blurted out, as if that was a logical answer.

 

A brow arched in his direction. “How do you know I have an accent?”

 

“He’s an analyst, Fi,” Michael’s voice butt in, “I’m sure he knows all our backgrounds.”

 

Sarah had told him that was the cover she gave the ex-spy. It was the safest route and one he could easily back. Perks of being a walking, talking computer.

 

“I blend in easier speaking with an American accent.” She replied breezily, “Now, back to the important question at hand: the dress. Yes or no?” Moving in front of the three-sided standing mirror to the left of the changing rooms, she frowned at her reflection, twisting this way and that.

 

“You look lovely, Fiona.” Michael replied, his tone sincere.

 

She gave him a wide smile. “Thank you, Michael, but your opinion is totally bias.”

 

Michael sighed and gave her a blasé look. “Then why am I even here, Fi?”

 

“To carry my bags.” Her gaze fixed on Sarah, with all the intensity of a big game animal about to go in for the kill, “You must be Sarah. Michael’s told me all about you.”

 

“Likewise.” Sarah echoed with a slight smile, the look matched.

 

If he were a slightly less immature man, Chuck would have made the cat-fight noise. But with these two, given their histories, he thought it would be most unwise. If Morgan were here, he would have done it anyways. Even it meant getting his ass kicked. Damn, did he miss his best friend.

 

“What do you think of the dress?” Fi asked Sarah.

 

Chuck watched Sarah’s eyes study the other woman from head to toe. Her face gave nothing away to whatever may be going through her head. She braced her hands on her hips and gave Fi a rueful smile.

 

“Though that’s a great style on you, the color doesn’t compliment you whatsoever.” Sarah said with all the criticism of a fashion designer, “Between your tan, your brown hair, and the gold? You need something lighter or bolder, depending on what they have here.”

 

The tension that had been building raised just enough to put Chuck on edge. But as quick as it rose, it broke when Fiona let out a hardy laugh.

 

“I like you.” She declared, “Help me find something better?”

 

Sarah smiled and nodded, the pair heading off towards the racks and racks of dresses.

 

“Come back to us after you get your tux rentals?” Fi called to Michael over her shoulder.

 

“Sure, Fi.” Michael’s tone was indulgent and he headed towards the door and Chuck followed after him, Casey on his heels.

 

Outside, the humidity was even worse than it had been before they entered the boutique. He could not wait to get out of this swamp. The suit place was a few buildings down and once inside, they got down to business. Compared to dresses, suits and tuxes were a breeze to put together. Depending on how fancy and personal preference. He had spent many hours as a preteen stuck at stores with Ellie as she tried to find the perfect dress. Fi and Sarah could be at the boutique for hours.

 

Chuck looked around at the color choices on display for various types of ties and vests. “Are we going for tuxes or suits? Just how fancy is this gala?”

 

“Tuxes would be safest.” Michael replied from his spot upon a small platform where he stood still while the tailor took his measurements, “It makes a statement. Plus, Fi used the word _tux_ repeatedly, not suit. I have the feeling that it was on purpose.”

 

Casey snorted. “You’re letting her control your wardrobe?”

 

Michael shrugged. “In this case, it makes things easier. Fi can be…intense.”

 

The bell above the door chimed softly, a pleasant little ding, as Sam Axe came through the entry. “That’s the nice way of saying she can be absolutely banana pants crazy?” He quipped.

 

The pair were painting quite a picture of Fi. Along with the knowledge he had gained from the intersect, Chuck was certain she fell upon the chaotic neutral alignment and he wanted to stay on the pleasant side of the chaos. Sam seemed to not care but then again, from what Chuck has observed, he was just that easy going.

 

“What are you doing here, Sam?” Michael asked, “I know you already have a tux.”

 

“I got some new information on our client. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.” Sam said, arching his brows.

 

“You know, I have this thing called a cell phone.”

 

“I do know and I know how prone you are to answering it.” Sam shot back, “Besides, I was in the neighborhood.”

 

“Were you now?” Michael drawled.

 

“I may have also been securing flowers for my date tonight.”

 

“Classy.”

 

“It’s my middle name.” Sam sat down in a high back chair near the windows.

 

Chuck sat down in the chair beside him with a soft sigh. Michael and Casey traded places and Michael went to go find his tux pieces. Chuck’s phone rang and he dug it from his pocket.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s me.” Sarah’s voice was pleasant in his ear, “Fi and I are finished up and we’re going to La Perla.”

 

He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “Wait, you’re done already?”

 

“Fi and I make a great team.” Sarah replied, sounding amused, “She said to tell Michael to come back to the hotel with you guys. We’ll meet you there.”

 

“Okay. See you soon.”

 

“We’ll probably be there longer than we were at the dress shop. It takes time to find something pretty and somewhat practical to wear underneath.”

 

Chuck felt his cheeks heat up. He had seen some of the things she wore under her dresses and his mind decided now was the absolute best time to torture him with it. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat, “We’ll see you when you’re finished then.”

 

“Bye, Chuck.”

 

“Bye.” He disconnected and relayed the message to Michael, Casey, and Sam.

 

“Will you be joining us, Sam?” Michael asked, “Oh, wait, you mentioned a date?”

 

“Won’t be a problem, Mikey.” Sam grinned, “Won’t be problem.”

 

There was something in Sam’s tone that made Chuck’s spidey senses tingle. Okay, maybe not spidey senses, but it made him wonder what was up the other man’s sleeve because it was certainly something. Glancing down at his watch, they’d find out in about six hours. And then they would rescue Jack Burton, get the hell out of Miami, and things could get back to normal. Or as back to normal as his spy life got.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a glass of bourbon pressed into Chuck’s palm as he, Michael, and Casey waited for Sarah and Fiona to get ready. The ice clinked against the sides when he put it down on the coffee table. Casey’s tight-lippedness was something Chuck was used to but it turned out that Michael was much, much worse. He also seemed…jumpy. Like he was waiting to be attacked. Being burned, without the security the job afforded, maybe he was. Or maybe some PTSD? It wouldn’t be surprising either.

 

Laughter came from Sarah’s bedroom, bright and carefree. Fiona and Sarah were practically thick as thieves since their afternoon of shopping which had spilled into the evening. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that had to leave soon to make it on time. A knock at the door dragged his attention away and he glanced at Casey, who straightened at full alert. Even Michael’s posture changed, his hand sliding just under his jacket. Casey went to the door and peered out the peephole. Making a gruff noise, he opened the door and Sam strolled in, a bouquet of white gardenias.

 

“So, Sarah’s your date, huh?” Chuck asked, choking down a laugh. The gardenias were a dead giveaway, he knew as well that they were Sarah’s favorite.

 

“Yep!” Sam grinned as he set the flowers down on the coffee table, “Who wouldn’t want to have her on his arm?”

 

“That fool.” Casey tisked, gesturing in Chuck’s direction, downing a swallow of alcohol.

 

“Hey!” Chuck yelped, “You know that’s not true, Casey!”

 

Chuck felt Michael’s eyes on him before he turned his head. “You and Sarah?”

 

Something akin to fear skittered down Chuck’s spine. Even with the Intersect, he was certain Michael Westen could beat his ass ten ways from Saturday.

 

“Dipshit blew it.” Casey answered for him, explaining what happened in the simplest yet most accurate way.

 

With a heavy sigh, Chuck nodded. “I did blow it and I am a dipshit.”

 

“Well, I appreciate your failure.” Sam replied with a tip of his glass of bourbon.

 

“I don’t.” Michael’s expression was even more blank than usual but it somehow made him more frightening, “Did you hurt her?”

 

Swallowing hard, the feeling of fear blossomed through his chest. There was only one answer. “Yes.” Chuck couldn’t keep bitterness out of his voice, “It wasn’t on purpose but. Yes.”

 

Michael was quiet for a long time. “I would like to say that I’d beat your ass or something of that sort but something tells me you’re the type that has been torturing themselves.”

 

“I have.” Chuck assured him, “Now I’m just trying to do right by her.”

 

“Still love her?” Michael asked.

 

“With all my heart.”

 

“Then don’t fuck up again.” Sam butt in, his usual jovial tone gone. It was a firm warning. Given their short time knowing each other, it spoke volumes to Chuck. It was more effective. It was like being reprimanded by your cool uncle. Not that he had any experience with that.

 

“I won’t.” He promised.

 

The door to Sarah’s room opened and the ladies stepped out. Fiona wore a strapless ice blue dress that glimmered with crystals all over. There was an impressive slit in the skirt that reached almost to the top of her right thigh. Her hair was up at the base of her crown in a fancy twist. Chuck had to give it to her, she was an absolute knockout. He sneaked a peek at Michael and found him staring; apparently, he agreed as well, judging by the smile on his face.

 

Sarah was, well, Sarah was always beautiful. But right now? Sarah was a goddess. Where Fiona was ice, Sarah was fire. She was dressed in a red that had small straps and had a heart shaped neckline that gave a hint of cleavage. It was fitted tight to her small frame but flared out at her hips into a massive shirt made of some frothy material. Her hair was half down, with the top half secured at her crown with a complicated looking braid. Her lips were painted with a bright red that matched her dress. He didn’t pray often but he’d certainly pray to her; the goddess of fire.

 

She smiled but it was focused on Sam, who held out the flowers to her. “You look stunning.” He told her, with a peck on her cheek.

 

Beaming, Sarah brought the delicate flowers just under her nose and inhaled. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”

 

“Thank you for being my date.” Sam grinned, “I’m truly humbled.”

 

“And that says a lot coming from Sam.” Michael quipped as he offered Fi his arm, “We should get going.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

After a surprisingly good dinner, the tables were mostly abandoned as the DJ began to place music. Their table, however, was mostly still hovered around. Sam and Casey were up getting drinks. Fi had disappeared off to the ladies’ room with Sarah. Which left Chuck with Michael, who watched the crowds with all the focus of a hawk. So far, Jack hadn’t been found. He was supposedly among the attendance. What con man wouldn’t show at a gala such as this? So many victims just ripe for the taking. Bleak, but true.

 

Sarah reappeared alone and slid into her seat with an audible sigh. Chuck reached out and caught her hand. It was warm and soft against his. She didn’t push him away, instead to squeeze his hand back. It was a small thing yet from that small gesture, hope bloomed. It was a baby step towards finding their footing again.

 

“He’ll show.” He told her, certain of it.

 

Her lips attempted to form a smile but was unsuccessful and it tugged at his heart. “It’s been an hour since dinner ended…”

 

“And this place is huge.” Michael interjected, “There’s two stories full of people. It’ll take time.”

 

Fi and Casey appeared with drinks. Sam was MIA.

 

“You’re date’s a bit of a slut.” Casey informed Sarah when he sat down.

 

She managed a smile, though it was weak. “It’s why I like him.”

 

The crowd broke out into the sort of line dance. It looked like the Cha-Cha Slide but half the people were doing it terribly, terribly wrong. Sam returned to the table with a mojito and a big smile. Chuck was certain he didn’t want to know what exactly put that smile there. The song changed from something fast and energetic to something slow, with a romantic beat. Couples paired off on the dance floor. He longed to ask Sarah but didn’t want to press his luck.

 

Michael rose to his feet and extended his hand to Sarah. Her blue eyes got wide and she blinked at him. Even Chuck couldn’t stop himself from doing a little double take.

 

“Mind if I steal your date for a moment, Sam?” Michael asked him.

 

“Go ahead, Mikey.” Sam replied amiably.

 

The pair headed out the floor and took a basic frame, nothing fancy. They rocked back and forth for a little while until Chuck noticed Sarah grinning. Then their dance grew a little fancier. Unbidden, the Intersect told him it was a waltz by the steps. It wasn’t as smooth nor sexual like when she had danced with Bryce while undercover. It was almost…romantic. She and Michael were smiling fondly at each other and Chuck’s heart rioted. He stole a glance at Fi, who looked unfazed, boarding on bored even. Swinging his gaze back, he found them close, their foreheads pressed together. Close enough to kiss.

 

“How come you’re not out there, Schnook?”

 

Chuck’s attention was ripped away from Sarah and Michael and found himself staring at Jack Burton. He wasn’t alone either. He was standing with a woman with hair the color of snow, dressed in a black, long sleeved, dress. Under Sarah’s father’s attention, Chuck swallowed thickly. It was difficult to feel relieved by his presence when Jack was giving him a look so hard it could break rocks.

 

“I…I messed up, sir.” He admitted.

 

Jack sighed and shook his head. “I was rooting for you, Schnook. I’m disappointed in you.”

 

That had a little extra sting to it. “You were right all along. I am a schnook.”

 

“But you’re still here for her.” Jack’s gaze softened just enough that part of him that feared for his life mellowed slightly.

 

“I always will be.”

 

“There might be some hope for you yet, Schnook.”

 

God, he hoped so. Looking back to the dance floor, Michael’s chin rested atop Sarah’s head but her eyes locked with Chuck’s. Then they flicked to her father and she stilled. Michael stopped moving and looked their way as well, his expression changing from surprise to anger to a careful blank. The song ended and Sarah and Michael made a beeline for the table. The relief on Sarah’s face was palpable the closer she got. It unlaced some of the stress in Chuck’s chest to see her so happy.

 

“Dad!” She cried, hurrying over to him, “You’re okay!”

 

“Of course, I am.” Jack engulfed her in a hug, “Sorry for worrying you. I had to hide a few extra days with a dear old friend.”

 

“Oh, Michael!” The white-haired woman gushed, tears shining in her eyes, “I didn’t know you could dance like that!”

 

Michael looked mildly uncomfortable and really, really tense. “It’s just something I picked up.” He cleared his throat, “The better question is what are you doing here, Mom? And why are you with _him_?”

 

_Mom_? Chuck felt like he had walked into the middle of the movie and didn’t know the plot. What was Sarah’s dad doing with Michael’s mom?

 

Mrs. Westen arched an eyebrow at Michael in almost a reprimanding look. It certainly made Chuck feel like he was in trouble and he hadn’t even done anything. “Well, Michael, if you answered your phone, you would know.”

 

Chuck watched Michael’s jaw clench for a moment. “ _Mom_.”

 

“Jack is an old friend of your fathers! I’m surprised you don’t remember him! We met him when you were a kid.”

 

Michael flashed a smile that was all teeth and no affection. “Can’t say that I do.”

 

“Is there something wrong, Michael?” His mother asked. Well, it was spoken like a question but sounded more like a demand.

 

“Wrong? No.” Michael looked at Fiona, “Fi, why don’t you take my mom to go get a drink?”

 

Fiona got to her feet. “Come on, Madeline, let’s get some refreshments and you can tell me where you got that beautiful dress.”

 

Madeline gave her son a sharp look. “Michael, don’t you dare pawn me off. Something is going on. What is it?”

 

Michael frowned. “I’m not exactly sure yet. But we’re going to find out. I’ve been working for a client, hunting down a conman that stole money from him. Any guesses on just who that conman is?”

 

No one needed three guesses. Tension straightened Chuck’s shoulders and knotted there.

 

“My dad.” Sarah said softly, “You’ve been tracking him all this time? Did you know who he was?”

 

“No, of course not. My loyalty is to you, not a paycheck.”

 

That fact earned Michael Westen some points in Chuck’s book. At least he didn’t have to worry about Michael turning on them.

 

“Whoa, let’s be clear here.” Jack said, “I didn’t steal any money from anyone…this time.”

 

“Then why is my client after you?” Michael snapped.

 

“I have no idea.” Jack’s voice was emphatic.

 

“And who are the blonde and the shaggy haired man, if you’re not running a con? Fi and I saw you with them and another man the other day and they’re here tonight.”

 

“I hired them but not for a con.” Jack looked around, “They help me get in touch with Sarah and to help me stay hidden.”

 

“Who are they?” Sarah asked.

 

“They’re called Leverage International.”

 

A blonde appeared just behind Jack’s shoulder so suddenly, Chuck wondered if someone had summoned her. There was something familiar about her, about the glint in her blue eyes. But why? Then it hit him, like her foot had hit his ass.

 

“You kicked me in the ass in the elevator!” He blurted out and she grinned.

 

“That was me!” Her voice was all cheerful and sunny, “I didn’t mean to kick you by the way, I just got really into kissing Eliot.”

 

Chuck could only nod with the information present at him. “That’s…good.”

 

The man in question, Eliot, joined their group. “Nobody needs to hear about that, Parker.” He growled but it wasn’t directed at her in a mean way, it sounded like the way he talked. Kind of like Casey.

 

There were three teams tangled up around Jack Burton and none of it made sense yet. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can somebody explain to me what is going on here?” He asked, “Because we’re at three teams, one conman, and Michael’s mom. Doesn’t this seem odd to anyone else?”

 

“Of course, it does, you moron but it’s not like we’re going to dig deep into it here.” Casey hissed.

 

“Where should we go?” Mrs. Westen asked.

 

“ _You_ should go home, Mom.” Michael answered, “I don’t want you involved in whatever this mess is.”

 

Her expression could level a city. “I’m already a part of this, _Michael_. Whether you like it or not.”

 

Chuck heard Michael swear under his breath but it wasn’t in English. The Intersect translated it and boy, was it colorful.

 

“What are we waiting for?” Sam pointed out the obvious, “We’ll go back to the hotel.”

 

“We can go to our room.” The blonde—Parker?—suggested, “We have the penthouse, plenty of room to fit us all. Plus, snacks!” Upon the look Eliot gave her, “What? I didn’t get to have my lunch break.”

 

The smile that touched Chuck’s lips couldn’t be helped. At least she was a good hostess. Eliot’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling but there was an affectionate smile on his lips. Now that they were squared away, Chuck rose from his seat and they moved towards the door.

 

The night air outside was mere degrees cooler but was still muggy it had been all day. Hurriedly undoing his bowtie, Chuck tucked it into his pocket and worked the small buttons of his collar. He followed Casey as they crossed the quiet parking lot to the small side lot they had been forced to park when they’d chosen not to valet their rental. Something felt off; the muggy air felt too still.  Just as he opened his mouth to say something to Casey, he heard it. The subtle cock of a hammer.

 

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one that heard it. Michael, Eliot, and Casey stopped and all turned towards the sound. Michael and Casey drew their weapons, while Eliot tightened his fists.

 

“You obviously used me for something.” Michael spoke the man that was holding a gun at them, “And I don’t appreciate it. I do, however, appreciate the fact that you’re outnumbered.”

 

The man smiled and the Intersect flashed. Images of him, his name—Benjamin Nicolson--and the information that he was considered rogue by the CIA played through his thoughts. When the data receded, Chuck felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Sam.

 

“You alright?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, fine.” Chuck replied quickly and reached for Sarah.

 

“What is it?” Her voice was quiet.

 

“He’s rogue CIA.” His tone matched hers, “What if he’s affiliated with The Ring.”

 

Sarah’s mouth tightened into a frown. “The Ring? Here? What do they want with my dad?”

 

His stomach twisted. Intuition said something more was at play. There had to be. Why else go to all this trouble? Sure, Jack was skilled at pissing people off—he had seen it first-hand—but something just didn’t feel right. “I don’t think they want your dad.”

 

Then Nicolson dropped the hammer and it sent Chuck’s stomach to his knees.

 

“Who said I’m alone?”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This chapter gets dark. Warnings for: violence, language, and gore.

Sarah inhaled slowly, taking in the scene around her. The ring agent had allies, but where? She knew Michael, Casey, Fi, and Sam were armed. Chuck might have a tranq gun on him but he was also armed with The Intersect so he was safer than most of them. The man called Eliot had no weapons but took a stance that screamed of advanced hand to hand training. He was of no worry. The blonde, Parker, didn’t have any visible weapon nor did she have a stance that gave away any training. That put three on the protection list: her father, Michael’s mother, and Parker.

 

Sarah’s hands went to the stiff material of her bodice and slowly unlatched the panel she had Fi and rigged to hid her gun. She also had a few blades under her massive shirt and another gun, though it was an emergency pistol that only held a few rounds. Depending on how not alone the rogue agent was, she possibly wouldn’t need it. She hoped she wouldn’t.

 

From the darkness around the parking lot, six men appeared from the shadows. Sarah pulled her gun, raising it level with the one closest to her. Stepping in front of her father, she was aware the others had started to move as well, shielding those that would need it.

 

“Sarah.” Her father’s voice was firm at her back.

 

“Dad, we got this.” She muttered, “Don’t worry.”

 

One of the men began to reach into his tux jacket but before he could pull anything out, Casey fired first. The bullet hit him and sent him to the ground. Michael took out the one next to him. Sarah fired her gun and struck her target, nailing him in near the collarbone. She fired another round, hitting another. Sam fired, knocking down his target. All that was left was the one who had cornered them.

 

“Looks like you’re alone again.” Casey huffed.

 

The man raised his gun and Sarah saw a red circle line up center of Chuck’s head and her heart twisted. Of course, Chuck would be an easy target with his height and his not being armed. “You think this is all I brought?”

 

The sound of a gun being fire cracked through the night air. Sarah blinked. It hadn’t come from any of them. It had come from somewhere behind them. The man fell to his knees, his clasping his shoulder. He swore and Sarah raised her gun, not at him but at the movement coming from the shadows behind him.

 

“Looks like I saved you again, Bartowski.” Bryce Larkin drawled with that movie star smile.

 

Ghosts can’t shoot guns. Her stomach churned, mixing terribly. Swallowing down acid, she tried to find her voice. “Bryce? How are you here?”

 

“Turns out, I’m a hard man to kill.” He replied and struck the man with the butt of his gun in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious, “Let’s save that talk for later. There’s a greyhound bus full of people on their way to this position.”

 

Sarah lowered her gun so it was no longer pointing at his forehead. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

 

Bryce sighed and tucked his gun into a holster at his side. “Chuck, ‘Iq ylDaQo’.”

 

“wej chaw’a’ tlhetlh.” Chuck laughed and the sound set her at ease.

 

“You should try it.” Bryce gave him a smile that screamed sin and a wink, “It would be fun.”

 

Sarah didn’t know the context of their weird language but Bryce’s English response made Chuck blush. She’d have to ask one of them later.

 

“Are you two done flirting?” Casey growled, rolling his eyes, “We need to grab that asshole and get the hell out of here. He has our answers.”

 

“Who has a trunk?” Michael asked, “It doesn’t even have to be a big one.”

 

“We have a big ride.” Eliot said and a black van pulled up and the panel door opened.

 

Casey walked over to the ring agent’s limp body and slung him over his shoulder. While he headed towards the van, Parker climbed in and pulled out a few zip ties. After Casey tossed him into the back, she and Eliot took care of his hands and feet.

 

“How are we going to get him into the hotel unnoticed?” Michael asked.

 

“Leave that to us.” Parker said with a brisk nod, “We’ll see you there.”

 

The van pulled away and Bryce joined them. Sarah swallowed hard as she felt tears sting at her eyes. She hadn’t even said good bye to him, to his body, at least. The CIA had taken him once they had gotten control of the scene. Michael took a step forward and then another.

 

“You’re dead.” He said, his eyes wide.

 

“I was.” Bryce shrugged, “It’s good to see you, Mike.”

 

“I wish I could say the same.” Michael replied, “I’m not used to the dead returning.”

 

“Try not to think of me as the dead.” Tentatively, Bryce took Michael’s hand and pressed it to the side of his neck, “See? My heart still beats.”

 

“Jesus Larkin, what did I say about flirting?” Casey groused.

 

“Is it because I’m not flirting with you?” Bryce shot back.

 

“Keep your wandering eyes to yourself. Or on Walker. Or on Bartowski. Or apparently, on Westen.” Casey flashed his teeth, “Right now we have more important things than where you want to plant you dick.”

 

More important things. That was right. There were enemies coming. That snapped Sarah out of the haze over seeing Bryce. Shit, they had to go and fast. “Dad, come with us.”

 

Michael, Sam, Fi, and Mrs. Westen were already moving. “See you there.” Sam called.

 

Casey led the way back to the rental car. He and her dad got in the front which left her in the back, smooshed between the two men that jumbled her heart. It took all she had to keep her eyes straight ahead and not at them. Their bodies radiated heat through her dress and beads of sweat broke out around her forehead. Chuck shifted beside her, his long legs were crammed at an awkward angle, and spilled into her space, sliding under the material of her skirt. Her heart hammered against her chest and tried to shift away but it made her collide into Bryce. She could no longer keep her eyes straight ahead when she felt his hand on hers. Tearing her gaze from the windshield, she met those blue eyes. He gave her that smile, the one that he saved for her when they were safe and sound, usually between the sheets of some hotel bed.

 

Her eyes stung and dug her nails into her palm to squelch them. It worked, the pain chasing away lingering urge to cry. “Have you been following us? I saw someone a few days ago…”

 

“You said you saw a ghost.” Chuck’s voice was quiet, near her ear. Goosebumps rose on her skin.

 

“Yeah, that was me.” Bryce confessed, his smile softening with a touch of sadness, “I promised Orion to always keep Chuck safe.” He shrugged, “But I’ve been keeping tabs on you both.”

 

“All this time?” Her question came out gritted as she fought against a new bout of tears.

 

“Well, only for the past…two months.” Bryce said.

 

“Where were you the other four?” Chuck asked.

 

Bryce sighed, his gaze dropping. “Not here, Chuck. Not here.”

 

“When, Bryce?” Sarah demanded.

 

“Soon.”

 

Casey navigated the car into the hotel parking lot and effectively cut the conversation.  When they parked, both Bryce and Chuck left the doors open for her and she closed her eyes. She did not need this right now. With a heavy sigh, she got out of Bryce’s side and pretended not to see the regretful look that entered Chuck’s dark eyes. In the lobby, they met up with Michael and the others. Together they filled the elevator and Sarah hit the button for their floor.

 

“What are you doing, Walker?” Casey demanded as he hit the penthouse button.

 

“I’ve got to get out of this dress.”

 

“Need any help?” Bryce grinned and she elbowed him in the chest.

 

“Bryce, this is my dad, Jack.” Sarah let her tone do the reprimanding, “Dad, this is my ex-boyfriend, Bryce.”

 

Her father eyed Bryce with a sharp look. “Who is apparently part zombie?”

 

“I promise you, sir, I’m not part zombie. But it is nice to meet you.” Bryce offered his hand but Jack didn’t take it. Bryce let his hand fall and Chuck patted his back, murmuring in that weird language again.

 

When the elevator came to a stop, Sarah stepped off. When the doors shut behind her, her eyes drifted shut for a moment. In that elevator was technically three exes and her father. And one of her exes’ Mom. And his sorta girlfriend. And one of those exes just came back from the dead. How had this become her life? Christ. She trudged over to her door, unlocked, and went to shed off her gown.

 

In a pair of yoga pants and a tank top fitted with lots of secret pockets stuffed with weapons, she headed to the elevator, armed to handle any enemies. Too bad she had no idea how to handle everything else. Her hand drifted up to the back of her neck and began to knead the knots that had formed. It did little to relieve the ache that they caused. God, if only she could have had time for a nice hot shower.

 

The doors opened and she made her way to the penthouse door. After a quick knock, Eliot let her in. She stepped into the main room to find everyone talking. It was hard to make out what over the sheer volume. Her father was gathered around a set of computer screens with a handsome man with dark skin, who was pointing at one of the monitors and talking very animatedly.

 

Chuck was standing with Bryce, Michael, and Casey. She opted to see her father. Despite the fact he was here with them, she still couldn’t find relief. She touched his shoulder when she reached him and peered down at the screen. Apparently, the man was a hacker. A gifted one at that. It looked like the man was creating him a new identity and booking him on a trip across the world. Her insides bottomed out.

 

“Why across the world?” She asked.

 

“Easier to hide him there than here. The cell that guy works for is based out of the states.” The man replied.

 

“Will the identity hold?”

 

The man stopped typing and turned, looking up at her with an expression that suggested she sprouted two heads. “Look, I’m very good at what I do, Miss CIA. I’m not going to go into detail about just how I do what I do considering you work for the government but look. Just extend an olive branch of trust my way, okay?”

 

Sarah felt her father’s gaze on her and she cleared her throat. “My dad didn’t know I was CIA.” She muttered through clenched teeth.

 

“Shit. My bad, sis.” He turned back to the computer, “I’ll make it right by taking care of your dad.”

 

“You better.” She warned him while her father pulled her away.

 

“You’re CIA?” He demanded, not bothering to lower his voice.

 

She winced. He was pissed. “Yeah. But I’m not on the job right now, if that makes any difference.”

 

“It doesn’t.” He frowned at her, “You put your job, your career, at risk. For me.”

 

Shifting her weight, Sarah nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed, “The CIA already knows that I’m your daughter. It’s how I ended up _in_ the CIA, as a matter of fact. I’ve been an agent for a long time.”

 

“So that con we pulled?”

 

“It was sorta sanctioned, more or less.”

 

“And the schnook? _He’s_ an agent?” The disbelief in her father’s voice rose her hackles. Not because she was offended for Chuck but because it reminded her that he chose the CIA over her.

 

It sent anger coursing through her once more. “Yes.” She snapped, “Bryce too.”

 

Her dad stared at her for a long beat. And then another. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

He might as well dropped a load of bricks on her. It took her a minute to process what he said. Even then, she still couldn’t believe it. “What?”

 

“Is the CIA ever a career I would have wanted for you? Of course not.” He replied, “But look at all you’ve done and the life you’ve built. Granted right now, I kind of fucked it up. You’ve become someone better than me.”

 

Tears surprised her, flooding her eyes. She wiped them away quickly. “Dad.”

 

“I’m serious. All parents want is their children to do better than they ever could. And you have.”

 

The hacker approached them and held out a passport and a flight itinerary. Her father took them and held out the little identification page. His new alias was Jack Feldman. While her father tucked the passport away in his pocket, she looked at his flight plan. He was going to be in London. Her insides gave a wobble. He was going to be so far away. What if he needed her? The easy answer was that: it would take her longer, but she’d do this all over again.

 

His flight was leaving in three hours. If he was going to make it, he had to go now. Her throat tightened. “I’m glad you’re safe.” She murmured.

 

“Me too, pumpkin.” He replied, “Thanks for coming for me.”

 

“Anytime.”

 

Michael and his mother joined them. “Jack, mind dropping me off at home?” Mrs. Westen asked, “My son is insisting that I have to go.”

 

“Trust me, Mom. It’s for the best.” Michael replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

 

Though it was clear she wanted to, his mother sighed. “Call me tomorrow, Michael.”

 

“I will.”

 

Sarah gave her father a hug while Michael seemed a bit reluctant to hug his mother. When their good byes were finished, she watched them walk away together; the camaraderie evident. It was an odd sight; who knew there would be connections upon connections. She looked at Michael and he looked tired and a little angry. When they were gone, Michael turned on her.

 

“You have some explaining to do.” He told her.

 

“Me? What did I do?”

 

“How is Bryce alive?!”

 

“I don’t know any more than you do, Michael.” Sarah snapped, her eyes searching for Bryce.

 

They approached Bryce and Chuck. Bryce seemed to already know what they wanted to talk about and greeted them with a sigh.

 

“How, Bryce?” She demanded.

 

He inhaled deeply and let it out with a shake of his head. “Project Apollo.”

 

The words had instant effect on Chuck. He let out a soft gasp and his eyes darted back and forth, like they normally did when he flashed. But time ticked by and he didn’t come out of it. Instead, a trail of tears began to fall down his cheeks, though he made no sound. Then blood began to drip from his right nostril, slowly moving down over his lips. Chuck still didn’t move save for his eyes, still flicking back and forth. Fear spiked from her heart, bathed her limbs with an icy cold wave.

 

“Bryce!” She cried as blood bloomed underneath his other nostril. This wasn’t like anything she had seen with the Intersect. Was this a glitch with the new one? Sarah grabbed Chuck’s face between her hands, desperate to try to break the Intersect’s hold. “Chuck? Chuck!”

 

Sarah was aware that the others were now gathered around them but she didn’t care about security clearances and the potential issues that could arise from them finding out the truth. Something was wrong with Chuck, possibly with the Intersect itself. Chuck—he was what mattered. She still cared, cared way too much.  “What did you do to him?!” She tore her eyes from Chuck’s face for a moment, targeting Bryce with her fury.

 

“It’s not what I did to him.” Bryce said, his voice soft, softer, gentler than she had heard from him in a long time, “It’s what they did to me.”

 

What they did to him? What was he talking about? Before she could continue her tirade, a low sound caught her ears. It was a groan, a pain filled groan. Her gaze flew back to Chuck. His eyes were no longer flicking back and forth but were finally still. His pupils were blown wide and his face was still slack. Christ, had the Intersect broken him?

 

His hands came up to rest on top of hers and for a brief second, she felt hopeful that he was okay. But then he moved, moved faster than she had ever seen. Ripping her hands from his face, his legs buckled. Her first instinct was to catch him. Bryce appeared, brandishing a trash can, and blocked her from moving. Chuck took the bucket in both hands and vomited noisily into it. While he emptied the contents of his stomach, she crouched next to him and rubbed his back. She didn’t know if it would help but it wouldn’t hurt either.

 

Bryce had found a box of tissues and held the box out to Chuck after he had finally stopped throwing up. Chuck plucked two tissues from it and slowly wiped away the blood. Through his tuxedo shirt, Sarah felt his skin heat up, felt sweat dampen the material. It didn’t stop her from touching him. Only she wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort Chuck or herself.

 

When Chuck finished cleaning off his face, he tossed the tissues into the trash and pushed it far from him. But he took the box and clutched it in his hands so tight the edges collapsed and his knuckles went white.

 

“Chuck?” Sarah kept her voice low, “Chuck are you alright?”

 

He looked at her for a moment and his eyes brimmed with tears. They fell down his face and he turned his eyes up to Bryce. Sarah looked up at him too; she needed answers, she needed them now. Bryce’s expression was blank, his eyes carefully watching Chuck. A quiet settled over the room for a moment. Under her hand, Sarah felt the muscles in Chuck’s back begin to move. It was the only sign she had before he exploded into motion. He bounced to his feet and grabbed Bryce, hauling him into his arms. Then Chuck began to sob. The sound was a helpless keen; the kind of a sob she had only let herself indulge once—after Bryce’s first funeral, when she was alone in her apartment—lost in grief.

 

Bryce’s arms slowly went around Chuck, holding him up with the other man’s legs buckled again. Chuck’s face disappeared into the top of Bryce’s dark hair, obsecuring Sarah’s view of him. Her eyes met Bryce and shock hit her when she noticed his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

 

“What the fuck just happened?” Casey demanded, looking angry and a little bit uneasy.

 

“I know.” The Hacker’s voice had lost of all the animation, his tone was somber. He turned the screen of his computer and revealed a CIA security video.

 

Sarah hurried to the screen, ignoring the fact that he had hacked their secure database with ease, and watched the video play. Bryce was in the middle of room, dressed in a pair of white scrubs. His eyes looked tired, resigned. Someone began to speak off screen.

 

“Project Apollo. Test number fifty-six.”

 

The number sank in. Fifty-six. A man dressed in heavy tactical gear stepped into the room. In his hand he held a grenade.

 

“No.” The word left her mouth in a hushed cry.

 

A hand squeezed her shoulder but she couldn’t look away as the man pulled the pin and bolted from the room. Bryce stared down at the incendiary device at his feet with a look of bored detachment.

 

“Saved the worst for last, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet.

 

Then the grenade went off and Sarah felt a scream built in her throat. She clamped her hands over her mouth, muffling her horror. When the smoked cleared. There was nothing left but pieces of Bryce around the room. Some was nothing but ash, some were more solid and smoldering.

 

“What the fuck.” Michael breathed beside her.

 

“Look!” Casey’s voice was a shocked growl and he pointed at the corner of the screen.

 

It was part of Bryce’s torso and it was twitching. An image Sarah wished she could unsee. This couldn’t be real. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. Instead, she watched the screen, needing an answer for this horror.

 

“I’m going to do us all a favor.” The hacker said and hit a button.

 

The images on the screen sped up and before their eyes, Bryce’s body rebuild itself until he was whole again. Clothes long gone, his naked skin showed no damage at all, except the one scar on his chest. The one that Casey’s bullet had left behind. It stood out starkly; the only blemish on his otherwise flawless body. He looked at the screen, glaring fiercely.

 

“Are you monsters satisfied?!” He yelled.

 

The video cut out and Sarah slowly turned, her body shaking. Bryce and Chuck had moved to the couch. Chuck was laying on his side, tears running down his cheeks still, his head on Bryce’s thigh. Bryce idly wiped the tears away.

 

“What did they do to you?” Sarah managed when her voice finally worked.

 

“Turns out when people believe you’re the Intersect, they’ll do whatever means necessary to save you.” Bryce didn’t look at them, keeping his eyes on Chuck, “Including filling you with nano-tech that will rebuild your body through any damage inflicted. Bullets. Fire. Maiming. Drowning. Suffocating. Crushing. Blowing up…” His voice trailed off, “They made me immortal, Sarah.”

 

“Fifty-six tests?” Her voice faltered.

 

“I survived them all.” He answered, “And Chuck…he saw every single one of them because of the Intersect.”

 

Bile rose sharply, burning her throat. Oh God. Chuck. Sweet, sensitive, gentle Chuck. Seeing all that happen to Bryce.

 

“Who are you people?” Eliot’s voice was gruff, “What did you drag us into?”

 

Sarah shook her head, her world shifting on its axis. “I don’t know.” She answered quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klingon Translations*:
> 
> ‘Iq ylDaQo’: She worries too much
> 
> wej chaw’a’ tlhetlh: I'm not getting between you
> 
> *Found it via a Klingon translator website. Cannot speak to the accuracy. Apologies if not.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: drinking, nudity, kissing, OT3 sexiness, language, and mentions of torture

Chuck now understood what a computer felt like when it was fried. The edges of his brain were fuzzy and even blinking hurt, his eyeballs as dry as the desert despite the tears that were beginning to slow. His mind was unusually quiet. It gave him time to focus on the little things. Like Bryce’s hand. Bryce’s fingers idly stroked his hair; Chuck couldn’t imagine what it felt like right now, given all the product he had slathered in to style it into something nicer instead of its wild shapes.

 

The repetitive motion was soothing regardless and he clung to the comfort offered. He would never be able to unsee those experiments. He would never be able to unhear Bryce’s screams; the sounds his body made when it was taken past its limits and broken. Under Chuck’s head, Bryce’s thigh muscle flexed, becoming a less comfortable pillow than it had been. With a sigh, Chuck worked his way into a sitting position.

 

Not his smartest decision.

 

His vision blurred for a moment and he shook his head in an attempt clear it. It didn’t help besides to make his head feel wobbly. A small groan caught in his throat. So much for feeling clear.

 

“Chuck.” Sarah’s voice was soft and her could feel her hands on his face, framing his cheeks. They were cold and gentle and soft. So so soft. So nice.

 

When his vision became more solid and less doubled, he found Sarah kneeling in front of him, searching his face. “Chuck, talk to me.”

 

“’m fine.” He murmured, “It…it was a lot. My head hurts a little.” Little was an understatement but he didn’t want Sarah to worry. There was too much going on to have him be on the list of problems.

 

“I’m going to ask again,” Eliot said, “What did you drag us into? What’s wrong with him?”

 

Chuck looked down at Sarah and she stared up at him. The corners of her mouth were tilted down. Her hands fell from his face and she rose in a graceful extension of her long legs.

 

“How much do you know about us?” She asked.

 

“We know that you three work for the government.” Eliot replied, “We know more about you and Casey than we know about Chuck. We know all about Michael, Fiona, and Sam. Everything we know about Bryce is just what we’ve learned in the last half hour.”

 

“And we know nothing about you.” Sam countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“The shortest answer is: I’m Hardison, hacker, the man behind the scenes. That’s Eliot, he’s our hitter, the one usually making a scene. And Parker, she’s our Mastermind and thief, the one running the scene.”

 

“Well, this just keeps getting better and better.” Casey sighed.

 

“Chuck is Casey and mine’s asset. He’s what’s known as the Intersect.”

 

“Walker!” Casey barked loudly, making Chuck flinch, “Stop talking!”

 

Sarah was unruffled by the outburst. She just stared back at Casey, unamused. “There is no point at keep that a secret. They obviously know that there’s something going on with Chuck and Hardison hacked the CIA server, in minutes, undetected. Things will be easier on all of us if we all are on the same page.”

 

“She’s right, Casey.” Bryce agreed.

 

“Nobody hit your buzzer, Larkin.”

 

There came a noise from Hardison. It sounded like a squeak. He cleared his throat and Chuck looked over at him, finding the hacker’s eyes wide and an almost giddy grin on his face.

 

“You’re telling me the Intersect is real.” He said, “You’re telling me that Chuck is a human computer. Not only supplied with all the government secrets but use the information store there! It worked?!”

 

“How do you know what the Intersect does?” Casey demanded.

 

Hardison rolled his eyes. “I’m not even going to answer that.”

 

Casey took a step forward and Eliot moved, blocking his path. “Don’t even think about touching him.” He warned.

 

Casey glared at him and Eliot glared back. Chuck sighed, already tired of the impending stand off. Knowing Casey, it would last a while. They didn’t need to waste time by having an angry staring contest.

 

“Stop being hostile, Casey.” He sighed, “We’re all going to be working as a team so just dig deep and remember how to get along with people, okay?”

 

“How did you survive?” Hardison asked, “Most the test subjects died or went insane.”

 

Chuck swallowed hard and offered a shrug. There was too much baggage behind that answer. None of which he wanted to get into. Especially the part involving his dad’s alter identity as Orion. They were already in dangerous territory. No need to make it worse. “Just…lucky. If you could call it that.”

 

“What’s going on out here?” Fi’s voice cut the topic as she and Parker emerged from the bedroom where they’d stashed the rogue agent, “Did we miss something?”

 

“Oh, you know. Just finding out the government is creating human computers and people who can’t die.” Michael drawled, “Are you telling me that the answer to who burned me and why is in Chuck’s head?”

 

Chuck’s heart gave a little jump. He wanted to deny the feeling that came with it: fear. But he couldn’t. Michael was dangerous and smart. He had been the perfect spy, right up there with Bryce. If Michael got him alone…he wanted to trust that Michael wouldn’t hurt him but the burned spy was desperate and that changed things.

 

The spike in is blood pressure made the pounding in his head more pronounced. Damn it. He hadn’t had a post-flash headache last this long before. Then again, he had never had a flash last that long either.

 

“Wait, what’s Vance’s problem?” Parker’s light brows knit together and she moved to Hardison and tucked herself into his side.

 

Casey blinked. “My name isn’t Vance, it’s Casey. John Casey.”

 

“Yeah, I’m not going to call you that.” Parker replied breezily, “Did I hear something about a human computer?” Her eyes sparkled up at Hardison, “That seems like something you’d be into!”

 

“That’s simplifying it.” Sarah explained, “Chuck is still a human and there’s still…flaws.”

 

“Like his nose bleed.” Michael replied.

 

“And the headaches.” Chuck muttered, rubbing his throbbing temples.

 

Bryce rubbed his back. Headaches, nose bleeds, brief double vision, light headedness. There was a troubling tally that Chuck wasn’t liking.

 

“There was a recent upgrade and it’s not as smooth as the last one.” Chuck admitted, “As Sarah said, I’m flawed.”

 

“SoHbe'.” Bryce hissed under his breath.

 

“nuq? jlH.”

 

“tlhlnhan Hol Dajatlh’a’ cha’? nuvpu’!” Hardison’s voice interrupted their conversation.

 

Chuck met Bryce’s eyes and they glinted with amusement. Chuck couldn’t fight the smile that crossed his lips. It was always awesome finding a fellow nerd. Especially one that knew Klingon. Though that meant he couldn’t have a private conversation anymore.

 

“Sorry to interrupt this geek love fest,” Eliot interjected, backhanding Hardison lightly in the chest, “But we have some sort of rogue agent unconscious in the guest bedroom. What is our plan for him?”

 

“Get our answers by any means necessary.” Michael answered.

 

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Casey grinned, audibly cracking his knuckles.

 

The throbbing moved from the front of his brain to the back. Stifling a groan, Chuck reclined back against the couch pillows while the others sorted who was going to join in on the “interrogation”. Casey had called it that but Chuck knew better than that by now. Had learned most of Casey’s double meanings. Interrogation? Try torture with some questions thrown in especially with this being off the record. Off the record meant a certain type of freedom. He didn’t want to know what would go down in that room. Didn’t want to be a part of it.

 

Closing his eyes, he turned out the talk. His head felt like it was being bashed in and he could taste blood in the back of his mouth. There was a chance he fell asleep because the next thing he knew, there was a hand lightly tapping his cheek. Sarah. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know it was her. He’d know her touch anywhere.

 

“What?” He asked, cracking open his eyes just enough to see her beautiful face eclipse his world.

 

“On your feet. Bryce and I are going to take you back to our room.” Her voice was gentle, quiet, a welcomed reprieve, “You need to rest.”

 

Opening his eyes all the way took far more work than it should have and he let Bryce pull him up to his feet. Hardison and Parker offered him a little wave as they passed them. The trek back to their room was quiet and the throbbing in his head was just starting to dull by the time they crossed the threshold. Bryce navigated him to the couch and Chuck collapsed onto the soft cushions with a grateful sigh.

 

Sarah stepped between his open legs and leaned over him, studying his face. He couldn’t help but blink up at her as he tried to focus.

 

“What?” He asked.

 

“I’m looking at your pupils.” She replied simply, “They’re finally looking normal again.” Her hand cupped his jaw and he leaned into her touch, letting his head rest in her palm.

 

God, the look in her eyes when their eyes met. He could feel her struggling with harness her emotions. He saw her anger, her pain. It sliced his heart. Good, it was his fault; she had every right to hate him. He deserved it. He lifted his head out of her hand, letting her step away. When she did, Bryce was there, pressing a glass of bourbon into his palm.

 

Normally, he would have sipped it but right now, all he wanted was the pain to stop completely. Swallowing it down in a gulp, he passed the glass back to Bryce, who filled it again. He drank that one down too.

 

The pleasant burn of the bourbon washed away the taste of blood and left a rich, smoky aftertaste. So much better. Sarah and Bryce were watching him with matching hawk-like intensity. It was almost too much too bear. He was a burden. Failure as a spy, as the Intersect, as a friend…

 

“Guys, I’m fine now.” He muttered, “You don’t have to babysit me.”

 

“We’re not babysitting you, Chuck.” Bryce said, “We’re taking care of you.”

 

“That’s babysitting.” He shot back, setting the glass down onto the coffee table and moving his fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t need to keep it on anymore. He managed to get one undone but the second was proving tricky, “Stupid small buttons.”

 

“They’re not small.” Bryce replied, moving in close, “You’re just tired.”

 

“I’m not.” Chuck argued as he watched Bryce’s fingers make quick work of all the buttons at a fast pace, “You’re really good at that.”

 

“I have worn more tuxes than you.” Bryce replied, then grinned, “I’ve also undressed more men than you.”

 

Well, when he put it that way…Chuck felt his cheeks heat up into a dangerous blush. Damn Bryce and his easy flirting. He was always good at that. He was good at everything. Bryce laughed softly and tugged carefully on the shirt front.

 

“On your feet.” Bryce commanded.

 

Chuck didn’t fight this either. He rose to his feet, blood rushing to his head. He steadied himself, bracing his hands on Bryce’s shoulders. Bryce raised an eyebrow.

 

“Don’t need help, huh?”

 

“Quiet, you.” Chuck attempted to grouse. But he couldn’t keep a straight face. Not when Bryce broke out into that smile of his.

 

Chuck felt hands at the top of his shoulders, slipping under the jacket he was still wearing. His heart threatened to break his ribs as he realized he was now sandwiched between Sarah and Bryce. And they were undressing him. Sarah peeled the jacket off his arms, followed by the unbuttoned shirt. Hot. He felt really, really hot all of a sudden and the white t-shirt he wore began to stick to his skin.

 

“Guys?” The word left his lips at barely a whisper. His heart had left his ribs and was now in his throat. Save Bryce’s flirting, the act wasn’t anything sexual. How could something that was not overtly sexual turn him on? Probably because they were easily the two most gorgeous people on the planet and somehow, fate had put them in his path, for better or for worse. And probably because he had once had a very sexy dream similar to this once. One had had buried deep in the “do not focus on this too hard for your own mental health” section of his brain. “I think I can handle it from here. Besides, a shower sounds good and I can manage that by myself…Probably.”

 

His hands, however, were still curled around Bryce’s shoulders and Sarah’s presence was still at his back. None of them moved. Whatever had built between them in that moment lingered. He could feel in it the air, it was almost palpable. He swallowed hard, slowly lifting his eyes to Bryce’s.

 

Mistake.

 

Big, big, huge mistake.

 

Bryce’s eyes were staring back all intense, so blue, so bright. Unconsciously, Chuck licked his lips. Bryce’s eyes drifted down, following the movement. Longing ripped at his chest. He wanted to be kissed, wanted to be held. At the moment, he didn’t care who was kissing him. He’d went from casual and intimate affection with Sarah to nothing for months. He was starving for it with a ravenous greed that came from the neediest parts of his soul.

 

Sarah broke the moment, her body pulling away. The loss of her body heat caused his lungs to constrict. Chuck turned and watched her head towards her bedroom.

 

“Where are you going?” Bryce asked, his voice husky.

 

“To start the shower.” She replied, disappearing into the other room.

 

As if they were aligned in orbit, like his body was caught in her gravity, Chuck followed after Sarah. He didn’t have to turn to know Bryce was following in his wake. Stepping into the bathroom, Chuck found the shower running. The large shower stall was all glass and marble. Beautiful and could easily fit three…Chuck swallowed at the thought. He was assuming and assuming led to a certain line of thought. Steam billowed up from the bottom and began to obscure the glass.

 

Sarah was pulling out the braid in her hair, the style leaving behind soft looking waves. He wanted to tunnel his hands into it, drag her to him, kiss her. He had kissed her so many times, he knew just the way her lips would taste. The need beat along in time with his heart and he sighed. The sound drew her attention but she didn’t say anything. She reached into her tank top and pulled out a blade. Small, sharp, deadly. Then she pulled out another until they were all scattered across the counter top. He was impressed by the sheer number she had had hidden on her and it tampered down his raging hormones.

 

Chuck heard foot falls behind him and looked over his shoulder, finding Bryce already naked. He didn’t know if he wanted to blush or keep looking. Bryce was built like a movie star in every way—from that killer smile, those piercing blue eyes, and well-toned body. It was almost insane to think a man like him existed in the real world among the rest of them. Chuck realized he was staring but couldn’t stop.

 

“Did you forget you have to be naked to take a shower?” Bryce teased quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

 

“I didn’t forget.” Chuck murmured, “Why are you naked?”

 

“Because I’m going to help you _take_ a shower.” Bryce’s hands caught Chuck’s belt and began to unhook it, “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

 

 _Don’t freak out._ Chuck sent the silent plea to his heart, his head, and his groin. His body went somewhere in the middle, his pulse in his ears. But at least it was at his ears and not anywhere else.  Tearing his gaze from Bryce’s busy hands, he found Sarah undressing. Before he could look away, she met his gaze. He couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes, only that she didn’t stop and didn’t tell him to look away. She lifted her shirt over her head, revealing smooth, creamy pale skin, and gorgeous breasts. Desire slammed into him with the subtlety of a freight train.

 

Bryce cleared his throat and pulled Chuck from his rapt stare. “Shoes, Bartowski. I know Sarah is just as stunning out of her clothes as she is in them. But you need to focus.”

 

Complying on autopilot, Chuck toed off his shoes and undressed himself the rest of the way. Once he kicked away the slacks, socks, and shoes into a pile near the other counter, he glanced at Bryce and Sarah who were both naked and looking back at him. How could they be so casual about this? Like them all being naked together was a normal thing. It most definitely wasn’t a normal thing.

 

“Did my brain stroke out during that flash?” Chuck asked, “Am I dreaming?”

 

“No.” Bryce gave him a smile that was meant to be reassuring but couldn’t hide the sadness beneath it, “We’re taking care of you.”

 

“You think I’m that unsteady?”

 

“I’m not going to take a chance.”

 

Chuck grasped for humor. Otherwise, things were getting way, way too serious. “Please, you just wanted to see me naked.”

 

Bryce smiled and winked. “I thought that was obvious when I went for your belt.”

 

“Chuck.” Sarah’s voice was firm as she opened the stall door, letting out some of the steam, “Just get in the shower.”

 

He wasn’t going to be an idiot and argue; when a beautiful woman tells you to get in the shower, you get in the shower. He let Bryce propel him forward and he climbed in the shower after Sarah. There was a small seat half under the spray and he collapsed onto it. Bryce and Sarah leaned against opposite sides of the same wall.

 

Chuck kept his eyes on the empty space of wall between them, about head level. He was nervous to let his gaze go any lower than that. He was an adult and he fancied himself mature somedays. But this situation? This was a little out of his range. Naked, with the two most gorgeous people in the world in the shower. Just a normal Tuesday—maybe in fantasyland.  

 

Quiet filled the air between them. The warm water beat across his back, soothing the ache in his neck and chasing away the remaining pain in his head. With the pain gone, he could focus on processing what had just happened. His mind went back to Bryce and the nanotech. He actively pushed the memories of the torture out of his mind. That ugliness had no place here.

 

“Are you free?” Chuck asked Bryce, “From the CIA, I mean. You said the last two months have been your own.”

 

Bryce nodded. “After Fifty-Six, General Beckman stopped all testing for good. She had tried before but some people over her head had rejected her request. She hated what they were doing to me…then they blew me up and Beckman rained down hell hard. I’ve never seen so many grown men about to piss themselves.” He drew in a breath, letting it go slowly, “She put through my retirement papers. Pissed off a lot people. Everyone was interested in using me, called me the most useful weapon next to the Intersect. Beckman laid down the law that I’m a human, not something to be used like a science project or a flesh shield. I had done my part for our government, for our country. Said that they owed it to me to let me live peacefully. I was going to have a long life ahead of me, let me decide what to do with it.”

 

Chuck swallowed. He hadn’t thought of the immortality aspect of Bryce’s new abilities. “Why Bryce?” He asked softly, “Why do you still end up in my life? Protecting me? You _should_ be off somewhere, living peacefully. Especially after what they did to you.”

 

Bryce shifted, “I thought it was obvious. I always thought I was obvious.”

 

Chuck swallowed, exhaling slowly. “Bryce. I don’t want to play games.”

 

“I love you, Charles Bartowski.” 

 

Chuck’s heart squeezed in his chest. His eyes locked on Bryce’s and was met with a look that was sincere. 

 

“You love me?” The words seemed so foreign.

 

“Always have. Why do you think I saved you from being recruited? Because I would rather have you hate me than destroy everything you were, everything you are.” A small, sad smile curved his lips, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known; how could I not love you?”

 

Swallowing took a little more effort, his throat tight. Chuck looked away, finding Sarah’s eyes. They were soft yet fiery, tears clung to her lashes.

 

“Why can you ever see yourself like we do?” She demanded, her voice was low but filled space between them, “Why do you think you don’t deserve what’s right in front of you? That you need to be better than you are? Christ, Chuck, we don’t want whatever version of you that you think is better, we want you!”

 

“You still want me?” She might as well have revealed she was Supergirl; the words rocked him to his core.

 

“You’re still the best man I’ve ever known.” She echoed Bryce’s words with a helpless shrug, “How could I not love you? Even after what you did…” Her teeth caught her lower lip, “I might be an idiot for it.”

 

“You’re not, Sarah.” He’d rip his heart out for her, right here, right now, if he could and he tried to convey that with his voice, “I was the idiot. I don’t even know what I can do to—“

 

She stretched her arm above her head that lifted her breasts at such an angle, he could no longer remember what he was going to say. He jumped when her hand was all of a sudden in his face, fully expecting a fist in the face, not the pink loofah she brandished in her palm.

 

“We have some things to work through.” She acknowledged, “But for now, you can start with my back and go from there.”

 

He took the fluffy piece of mesh-y material from her palm and stared at it for a minute. Then he looked at Bryce. The expression on the other man’s face was vulnerable and Chuck’s heart flipped. Two of the most amazing spies and he somehow had ended up with their hearts in his hands.

 

“And you, Chuck? I know you love Sarah. But is there anything left for me?” Bryce asked softly, “Last I knew people still referred to me as your nemesis.”

 

“That was Roommate!Bryce, not—not you. The real you.” He stammered, “You’re not my nemesis. I understand what you did and why you did it. And I do, love you, Bryce.” It felt weird saying it out loud. Chuck had realized it the night Bryce died and it had hit him like a blow. He had watched the light fade from Bryce’s eyes and a piece of his heart shattered. _Don’t go_. Chuck had so much more he had wanted to say to him, he needed to say.

 

Not that he had had much time to process it before he was ripped away to Prague after uploading 2.0. But the nights after they sent him packing—when he was mainlining cheeseballs and living in his bathrobe. Then. Then he had all the time in the world to process it all. Process the fact that he had loved Bryce. First as a friend. Later, how it could have been something more in another life. How the love he did have for Bryce had been tied up in complicated emotions that had ruled him since Stanford. But, in the end, Chuck had untangled it. Unraveled it into something that made sense.

 

He had loved Bryce and he was mourning him. Mourning everything that would never come to be.

 

After, he had mourned Sarah, for the failure that was all his doing.

 

Now, he had a chance at redemption with them both. A chance to accept their love and lose himself in it. A chance to love them. They might have said that he didn’t have a stroke but there would always be a small part of him that would always believe this was a dream. Schnooks like him didn’t get chance like this.

 

So, he was going to take this second chance and make damn sure he didn’t take it for granted.

 

Chuck climbed to his feet, the water running into his eyes. He ran his free hand back through his hair, the gel loosened enough for his hand to make it through. Stepping out of the range of the water, he stopped just in front of them. “So now what? Where does this leave us? You both love me, I love you both. We’re in the middle of some complicated bullshit with The Ring, a burned spy, and a criminal triad! I-it’s not like we have time to celebrate with a threesome right now…” He faltered when that word left his tongue: threesome. He had hardly managed a normal relationship let alone attempt something with two other people at the same time.

 

“That…” Sarah said slowly, “Can come later. There’s the current matter of my back and the fact you’re not washing it.”

 

Bryce closed the small distance between them and took the loofah from his hand while his other hand brushed Chuck’s hip. “You get hers, I’ll get yours.”

 

“I think that’s fair.” Sarah stepped forward, close enough that her breasts brushed Chuck’s chest. Goddamn, they were soft. Her mouth caught his and her lips were soft too. Fuck. The kiss was brief but sent sparks through him, igniting across his body.

 

Sarah pulled back, breaking the kiss. Bryce was there to continue it. Where Sarah had been soft with slight curves, Bryce was solid muscle; giving him a hard base to cling to. Chuck hadn’t exactly kissed many men but Bryce was incredible, like beyond incredible. Jesus, Chuck couldn’t do anything but melt against him. Sarah’s hands brushed his torso, spreading slick soap across his skin. The extra sensation made him gasp against Bryce’s lips, especially when her hand moved lower and lower.

 

Between Sarah and Bryce’s busy hands and their incredible mouths, it was the best damn shower of Chuck’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klingon Translations:
> 
> SoHbe' = you're not
> 
> nuq? jlH = What? I am.
> 
> tlhlnhan Hol Dajatlh’a’ cha’? nuvpu’ = You two speak Klingon? You're my people!


End file.
